


Well Kept Boy

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being helped into the car was somewhat humiliating, but Charles could live with that. He did, in any case, and accepted the help he needed getting out as well, transferring to his new wheelchair. There were pills in his pocket, pills he needed, but he wasn't going to take them. Not yet, not until they had things straightened out, had Erik safely where he should be.</p><p>Part of him just expected that Erik would be there, waiting for him to see. He knew what Erik looked like when he was hale and hearty, had a relatively recent picture of him. Benefactors weren't supposed to see their Companions except in pictures until they Went Home, but neither were Companions supposed to be shipped off to service status.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Kept Boy

Charles Xavier had been aware that the time was coming; that it was inevitable and necessary, unavoidable. A responsibility, his own father had said, and his mother had acknowledged it, once upon a time. A very long time since, in fact, since before she'd remarried a man with whom his father had worked, a man who wasn't a Benefactor.

That hadn't helped matters, neither with his mother's new husband nor his son. Cain Marko held his status as Benefactor against him, as if it was a free ticket into some world to which he had no access. He seemed to feel it was a personal affront rather than a freak chance of birth, one that made Charles obligated rather more than Cain ever would be, duty-bound in ways that went far beyond whatever advantages that status might offer.

Charles didn't want the status though he knew how to handle it, and Cain did. Cain wanted everything, up to and including bashing Charles's head against the stairs until it burst open like a melon. It was a frequent dream Cain had, and the cause of many a sleepless night for Charles.

At least the trip to the Choosing wasn't harried, not long nor dependent on timing, because all he'd had to do was travel from the suburbs to the complex that was just on the outskirts of the city. He had to have the proper proof, had to sign in at the station to be allotted a ticket. The subway station for Benefactors was only open twice a year, once for the Choosing, and again for the Homecoming.

Both were fairly elaborate events, although of entirely different sorts. Charles couldn't imagine being at either one, although now he was seated in a large foyer, accompanied by dozens of other young men his age, and a few who were older. Most of them had thoughts much like his own -- worry, obligation, duty. Commitment to their family line, to doing what they'd been told was the right thing to do.

Some of them were trying very hard to avoid fulfilling the requirement their birth had laid upon them. Some of them were enjoying this a little too much for Charles's comfort.

He tried to shut that off, stifle it as much as he could. It was an uncomfortable situation, faced with small little beings, one of whom would ideally eventually be shaped into his perfect Companion.

That had worked so well for his mother that after his father's death, she'd decided to try to drink her way to seeing him again. It hadn't worked yet, but it was just a matter of time. She hadn't been prepared to make certain choices, and that was his father's fault as much as anything else. He hadn't made sure that his Companion would be prepared for that kind of situation, for his death. Charles hoped he'd be better at choosing appropriately.

In more ways than one.

A door flung open at the far end of the foyer and a man stepped out, dressed to the nines and beaming at everyone there. "Good evening, gentlemen, and welcome to The Renssel. We have a lovely evening planned for you, so I hope you'll all take a moment, have a drink, and prepare yourselves to be entertained!"

Entertained? Oh god. He didn't even want to reach out to the man's mind and find out what his idea of entertainment was. It was a _Choosing_ , and Charles had always been led to believe that they were supremely bizarre, but... well, trust New York to bring them the most bizarre.

He knew what was coming even before the Headmaster introduced himself and began to wave them into the next room. Charles had expected something a bit more horrifying, children in party dress standing by chairs, waiting nervously. It was the image he'd seen in his mother's mind, despite the fact that she was already well on her way to drunk when he'd left home.

Instead it was obvious that they were expected to be an audience. There was a stage with elaborate red velvet curtains and chairs seated in rows waiting for them to take their seats.

It would've been simpler he decided as the curtains lifted and they were introduced in rapid fire sequence to the potential Companions in small sets. The children then proceeded to perform odd little dance numbers, or sing songs. It was very much like a bad amateur hour, one which the headmaster found delightful in the same way Charles supposed one would cheer on any small child trying to tap dance. The entire act was strangely charming and a little sickening. Most of the other Benefactors didn't seem to know what to do, or what to say, or the answer to any number of questions that Charles was almost afraid to ask himself. The children were all quite adorable and they were obviously having a very good time. It was much better than the images he'd gotten from his mother in all honesty. He just wasn't sure how to take it.

None of it was going to make things easier for any of them, particularly the little trio who, apparently lacking any other skills, played with hula hoops for their 'performance'. It was almost uncomfortable to watch, and perhaps that was the point of the exercise -- to show them that their Companions were still only children, and very small children at that. Small enough that Charles's nerves were jangling with discomfort, and he felt terribly grim at the idea of Choosing one of them.

The headmaster, Charles decided after a bit of distracted probing, was a bit of a bastard in his own way. The crowd as a whole had tight nerves, discomfort, which he supposed was heartening, and Charles started to scan lightly over them out of boredom. Angry, bored, bored, irritated, bored, uncomfortable, bored, creepy, bothered.... bored.

Bored in a very different sort of mind than the rest of the crowd, off to the left, and then looking curiously around. It felt like one of the Companions had wandered free of the show.

Charles slipped towards the back of the crowd very quietly. It made him want to investigate and interest in something aside from the bizarre stage show was good.

"Wonderful, children! You're doing very well!"

Anything that got him away from that could only be of the good.

Everyone was mostly too busy staring at the stage (in horror) or staring at each other (in horror) to notice the Companion that had escaped from the stage and into their midst. He was maybe four, five, very pale blond, no color in his hair at all, and peering up like he was planning to pick someone's pocket. Perhaps it was only curiosity, Charles found it difficult to tell. He was wearing a little tuxedo, part of one of the dance numbers, he guessed. He hadn't been on stage, though.

Quietly, he slipped closer before kneeling down just a little and peering across at him. "Hello." Nice, friendly. It was better not to startle him. "It's very nice to meet you, young mister....?"

"Hello." He was polite, but not friendly, not chipper. Eyeing him, and eyeing his bald head, yes, there was no way that was going to go unexplained, he supposed. "My name is Erik. Erik Magnus. The headmaster said you're a bunch of buggers."

Well. That was enough to make him chuckle, at least. It was better than the stage presentation. "Well. I suppose we might all be, in a way. We're Benefactors. We have certain obligations to be met. I suppose, in a way, you're here to help us meet those obligations. Perhaps with less singing and dancing."

"We're supposed to try to impress you." You in a general sense. The boy was peering at him, and Charles could feel him trying to work out what, exactly, Charles was doing kneeling down to eye level with him.

He didn't seem inclined to impress, and that made Charles quite like him. The feel of his thoughts were interesting as well, as he steadily tried to figure out just what was wanted from him. "I have to admit that I'm quite impressed with you. There's something to be said for being unique."

He supposed it was a bit of a high concept for a five year old, but Erik was looking at his hair when Charles said the word 'unique'. "Where did your hair go?"

"Ah, an excellent question. I lost it, you see. No one quite knows why." Charles was sure it corresponded to his particular talents, but announcing that to a child would be a bad idea, to understate the issue. He caught a thought and smiled. "You can touch it if you like."

Erik hesitated, and then leaned forward to pat at Charles's head like he was a small animal. "Not bristly at all."

"No. There's nothing there."

"Excuse me." Ah. The headmaster. Charles wasn't surprised, or if he was it was surprise that it had taken this long.

He smiled. "Hello. Erik Magnus and I were just discussing my lack of hair. He's a very interesting young man."

The headmaster let his eyes bore holes into Charles's head, and he was weighing whether to have Charles kicked out or to keep him there so someone would finally choose the impudent little potential Companion who had completely ditched his dance partner. Erik dropped his hand, though he didn't move away. "Why don't the two of you discuss over in the actual area for discussing things?"

"Well, Erik?" Charles tilted his head in invitation. "Shall we step along the way and discuss the possibility of you becoming my Companion?"

"You'd Choose me?" Erik sounded a little startled, peering up at him. "I didn't even show off."

"Yes. That does seem to be part of the charm, don't you think?" The dancing, well. It was entirely creepier than most anyone would give it credit for being -- if they hadn't seen it, anyway.

"Good. I didn't like it. Felt weird." He gave the headmaster a dirty look, and then twisted and went back to peering at Charles while he stood up.

He offered Erik his hand. "Then I shan't make you take dancing lessons. All things considered, that seems to be a good idea."

Erik reached up. His thoughts were curious, drifting, but there seemed to be a central theme of focus, or what felt like focus. "I'm not bad at it. Just...." Just, he didn't like to be on stage, didn't like people staring at him.

"We'll find things you like to do better. Things for which you're better suited. I think they have lemonade." And cookies, but the lemonade was what made Erik tug him slightly towards the sitting area.

Erik liked lemonade. Tart and sweet at the same time. Charles was willing to bet he could extend that overworked metaphor to Erik, but he let himself be pulled along. "If. If you choose me, what will I do?"

"What would you like to do?" It seemed a reasonable enough question, even though he was only almost-five.

"Make things." Well, that was a wide range, but Charles could see stacking blocks, mechanical bits and bobs, and little whirring motors in the boy's head.

"Tell me about it. Tell me what kinds of things," Charles requested, and Erik told him.

Yes. It had been a very uncomfortable trip. Downright horrifying in some ways, but it was done now.

The Choice was made.

Charles thought it was quite a good Choice. Now he just had to figure out a way to be sure Kurt and Cain and his mother knew nothing about it. Not if he wanted to make it through the next few weeks until his Service began with his sanity intact.

* * *

  
People often accused Benefactors of being sniveling weak sons of privilege.

After three years spent in the war zone with varying degrees of barracks arrangements, Charles was inclined to agree that there were days he would've drawn his side arm and shot the nearest commanding officer if it granted him a private room and a bed which was in no way shape or form bunk in nature. It was bad enough to go out with his unit on missions and hear, _feel_ , the dying around him, to search like a bloodhound for the enlisted who were missing in the field -- and he did find them, always, minds bright like flashlights -- to tie tourniquets and lie to men who were going to die before they were loaded onto a helicopter.

But to come back to living on top of each other at the end of it was unbearable.

The only thing that made him keep at it, keep going, were the letters.

They came like clockwork, once a week every week. Erik's handwriting went from scraggly crayon to block print in lead to a scratchy sort of cursive that Charles finally learned to interpret with a little effort. They spoke of classes -- math, literature, science, the things Charles had carefully arranged through phone calls that got him dirty looks and more letters than he cared to think about. When he was tired, he generally wished that Erik had kept to he block print because it was easier to read, to reread, which was one of his few joys in life other than breakfast.

Breakfast in the mess hall was delicious, and all other meals were like poison, hardly worth coming back for at the end of the day if they were back the same day, which usually they weren't. His unit didn't ask him about the letters, because as a whole he got them home alive. Getting them home alive was more important than anything else, any other prejudices. He just hoped he could keep getting them back that way. Today wasn't looking like it would be one of those days. Bombs everywhere, the rapid fire sound of guns in every direction.

No. Today didn't look good at all.

He'd learned to shield himself from the searing agony that followed the 'proper' placement of a bomb, a bullet well aimed, when thud turned to screaming and horror and oh god make it stop make it stop make it stop rattling in his head while he grabbed his equipment and pivoted towards the victim to try and get them together long enough to survive to a hospital. Possibly. He couldn't function as long as he felt that pain.

He knew it was coming, so Charles was understandably keyed up as he walked. Color code orange, possibly in red, not into the black yet. Not breakdown material yet.

Just close. So very, very close, and he was working as hard as he could. Being careful was extraordinarily difficult under the circumstances, and this was going to require a great deal of care. "It's going to be okay. We'll get you fixed up, get you back to base."

This one was just a leg. Just a leg, and Charles thought he could survive. It didn't feel bad except for the crippling fear pouring off of the man while Charles tried to tend his messy wounds. No one cried for medic because he was already there.

"There. There." It was a miracle if the man could hear him over fire. Still. He had morphine in him, had the tourniquet on tightly enough that he didn't think he'd bleed out. There was supposed to be a chopper coming in but as bad as things were it might take them a while. "Let me...."

Just reach in there and touch off a few pain centers, flip a few switches, ease him down because the agony was starting to distract him horribly, and he needed to be able to think, to move again, to see if there was anyone else who--

Oh.

Oh, and the sky and the ground had changed places when he managed to blink open his eyes, look around. That couldn't be anything good. He needed to get up, to see to the rest of his unit. He could feel, hear, think what was going on around him, and he needed to make sense of it.

He needed to move, and... he couldn't.

He still heard Modesto going on about help coming soon -- he had been before, but it sounded more urgent now -- and Charles couldn't do more than get a hand to spasm wildly in the dirt like it was trying to gain purchase for the rest of his body and there was nothing.

Just... nothing.

Charles closed his eyes just for a moment. Just a moment, and he'd manage to open them again, get up, help them. Help all of them, but when he opened them again, everything was changed.

There was no oddly blue sky for a hellish hellish day. There was white ceiling, and dim lights that didn't seem insistent on staying within any sort of standard brightness in the ceiling, and there was an aching, bone deep exhaustion just from keeping his eyes open.

"Hello?" He thought he managed to say it. Perhaps he only thought it, and that was laughable. It made him shake his head, and the world swam strangely so that time went missing somewhere in the middle.

"... well, it's good to see you awake, Lieutenant Xavier. You've had a rough three weeks in and out of it, but we all thought you'd pull through." He could tell she was lying even as she talked, pleasant banter to a man who, if he was conscious, was accepted as half-conscious.

"Yes. I can imagine." His voice sounded raw, thick. It was all he could do not to yell out, because what she was thinking... it was unthinkable. Deeply, horribly unthinkable. "Tell me." So he could have his breakdown.

"I can't quite say yet. I mean, what you've regained since the swelling went down is remarkable. Most of your upper body is fine again..." Oh god. Oh god, it was like softening the blow with a sledge hammer. "There may even be hope that your legs will have feeling again."

He wasn't going to yell. He wasn't going to think, or do anything remarkably stupid.

One thing was certain now: he was going home. Back to New York, and... and he'd find better doctors. He'd find someone to help him. Someone who could make him walk again.

He'd... he'd find someone.

When he didn't answer the nurse, she lingered for a moment, wanting to be helpful, feeling useless, except Charles had no care for whether his silence was hurting her feelings or not. He was awake, he was alive... And as he slowly worked through the muscle groups of his body, he felt where they faltered and failed, didn't respond, had no feeling.

Dear God.

Dear God.

"There are letters for you. Lieutenant?" She was nice. Very nice, and her name was Sally. She hadn't been a nurse that long. Not long enough to become cynical. He ought to be nice to her; he just wasn't sure that he could.

"Put them on my tray. Please."

It was a slow burn of horror to try and tighten his lower abdominal muscles, and feel just the barest sensation -- strangled nerve-endings that might, she was right, come back with time. Or go away entirely. He needed to go home, he needed to work out where the break was, because he knew medicine, he'd been going to go into it when he finished his service, he...

Had a tiny pile of letters on the tray beside the bed, and probably every one of them was from Erik.

He couldn't read them right now.

He couldn't be what Erik needed right now. Hell. He couldn't be what _he_ needed right now, and so they would have to wait.

Just a little while longer.

* * *

One of these mornings, Richard was going to give in and start searching over the want ads. Someone would place a listing looking for caring, respectable, fun headmaster for a Companion school, any day now. Aaaaaaany day now. After all, he hadn't known that his job was up for grabs and yet it had been. He was still fighting over that with the pieces of shit who called themselves council members and still had no idea what had brought it on in the first place except that Companion centers were the last place to let the petty council infighting spill over.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to win, though. There was a grim satisfaction in that knowledge as well as in the edifying awareness that he'd sculpted the mayor's Companion and the Companions of half the damn city. Richard wasn't afraid to call in favors, not when it meant he could go back to his job, his school, and protecting his kids the best way he knew how.

It was just waiting for his called in favors to trickle through to the council, for the members to get hot under the collar, pressured enough to change their minds and put him back into his place running the school rather than some fresh bumbling completely under-experienced barely _kid_ who should have been the one trapped in an office writing curriculum rather than Richard.

Neal. Of all people. Neal was like a snake oil salesman, but he knew nothing at all about shaping and protecting young minds. He ought to be somewhere painting, sculpting, trying to recreate Renoir's work, and really. Richard was fairly certain that his Benefactor wasn't just A Criminal, he was probably The Criminal somewhere. There was no other explanation for that in all honesty, and Neal knew it. He knew he was terrible at it even if he was trying.

Neither of them knew how Neal had gotten the position, but so far he'd presided over what Richard could tell was a startling amount of change. Rifling of student files, changing of the instructional teams, and two Benefactor deaths.

He was still trying to keep a finger on the pulse of the place, after all. Richard had to know what was going on when he managed to claw his way back into the school, and put Neal back into his place.

Dammit.

He'd lost two students to the service sector, and that hadn't been necessary. It shouldn't have happened. He'd have tucked Erik into a kitchen cupboard somewhere, found a bishop's nook to stuff away Jackie, but Neal had obligingly put them on the damned train to nowhere.

Erik in particular should never have been allowed to leave the school.

Richard knew about his talent. His... mutation. Erik had come to him only a few months ago. He'd told him to hide it, that it was something people wouldn't understand, that it was something no one needed to know about but Erik and himself. Now he was afraid someone had found out somehow. That they'd used this as some kind of opportunity, and he had to get back his job.

He had to get back his kids.

He could at least keep them in the service sector to the school, but no, no. It wasn't Neal's fault because he'd just done what he'd been told, but Richard wouldn't have done what he'd been told. That was why people who were appointed as headmasters were, in fact, headmasters. Sometimes, someone had to stand up to the council and call bullshit.

Neal was failing miserably in that unlisted job requirement.

He couldn't know, of course. He was too young to understand, and too concerned with what was most immediate, namely himself. It took a certain kind of person to head up Companion schools, whether it was the CCCC, Beaufort, The Renssel or Galena. They were very different places with different styles, different Companion types, but in the long run, there was a personality type required to head the various institutes so that they were successful. Damn, but Lady Heather would never get tossed on her ear by the council and have to fight her way back in. Neither would Miss Vivian Rae, but Southern Benefactors and Companions were a little odd, and her great-grandfather had been some famous general, so she was undoubtedly set for life. It was just him and that poor asshole from Chicago who had to fight to keep their position, and this was the first time Richard had managed to get screwed in the last dozen years.

It was going to be the last time. He just needed to swing by, see the mayor, drop a few less than gentle suggestions about the quality of Neal's training, and massage it through the system. It would take a few days, maybe as long as two weeks, but it was a start. It was the best he could do, and while he was working the system he'd let the system work him a little, or think that it was, anyway. He had other plans, like finding Erik and Jackie, and if that meant sucking up to some douchebag who thought he could get his hands on Richard's kids, well.

He'd do whatever he had to do to get them back.

* * *

  
Erik had stopped writing.

Out of that little pile of letters there had only been one, which wasn't like Erik. Now it was three drifting, agonizing weeks later, he was stateside, and Erik still hadn't written. Almost seven weeks and no letter from his Companion?

There was something rotten in the state of Denmark, and Charles was going to discover exactly what it was.

He wasn't ready for much. They kept saying things about physical therapy and wheelchairs and blah blah blah blah that he mostly tuned out because he already knew what they were going to say, and he didn't want to acknowledge it. Not truthfully. Nevertheless, in order to go about finding out what was wrong, he would have to do as he was told in order to begin investigating.

Instead, he made a few phone calls.

The first place he called was the school, because they would at least give him an answer, even if it as a lie, and he could hold it up against the reality as it went along. Then he was going to tell the hospital that he was leaving, take the damned wheelchair, and get out there because mind reading still didn't quite work over the phone. No matter how much he wanted it to.

He was getting better. He could pick out thoughts whole streets away, nearly towns, but there were millions of people much too close to The Renssel, and he wouldn't be able to get what he wanted.

The phone rang four times, and that was a bad sign right at the start. It had never rang twice in Charles's memory.

 _~"Renssel, could you hold please?"~_ The voice sounded desperately harassed.

"No, I..."

Dammit.

He laid there, working his jaw and trying not to let the anger soar right through his body, because could he hold? No, no, he couldn't hold. He didn't want to hold, he wanted answers now. He wanted answers seven weeks ago, and he was getting out of a hospital bed in order to get them.

 _~"Renssel, may I help you?"~_

"My name is Charles Xavier. I will speak with your headmaster. Immediately." If not sooner, by God.

Not questioning, no. Demanding, and he heard the person on the other end of the line say, _~"Yes, sir. Please hold,"~_ before it clicked over. He closed his eyes, and tried not to think the worst, because he wasn't even sure what the worst was. Erik was nine.

 _~"This is Headmaster Neal. How can I help you today?"~_

He sounded ridiculously young, unprepared, and a bit hassled. "My name is Charles Xavier. Lieutenant Charles Xavier. My Companion ceased writing to me several weeks ago. I demand to know why, immediately. Where is the previous Headmaster?"

 _~"Headmaster Richard was replaced a couple of months ago. Uh, hold on, please, Benefactor Xavier, I'll, uh. I haven't learned everyone's names yet, who's your Companion?"~_

Ha. He hadn't even taken the time to make up lies yet. "Erik Magnus. He's nine." Nine, and Richard had known who Erik was. Richard, for all of his oddities, knew all of the children and protected them very well.

 _~"Two names, well, that's unique, uh..."~_ Stalling. He was stalling, and then there was silence. _~"Benefactor Xavier, I uh. I don't know how to say this."~_

"Then I expect that you had best spit it out, and very quickly. I've just arrived back in the states following injury in the field of duty, and I find that I am quickly losing patience, Headmaster Neal."

 _~"That's the thing, Benefactor Xavier. The Marines told us you were dead."~_ Oh. And there was a moment of trying to process that, except he knew what happened with Companions when their Benefactor died, Companions who hadn't Gone Home yet.

"You have twenty-four hours to find my Companion and get him back to the Renssel, Headmaster Neal. After that, you are going to find yourself in one very uncomfortable position. I suspect that you'll find yourself there one way or another, but I will make it so much worse if Erik isn't back where he belongs. Do you understand me?"

There was a moment where he was sure that Neal was slack jawed on the other end of the line. There was no other facial expression which would have worked. _~"Yes, sir. Yes. We will absolutely get Erik Magnus back, I, uh. Yes. Twenty four hours."~_

It took everything he could do not to slam the phone back into the cradle. Instead, he laid it down with an extraordinarily gentle touch, and took a deep breath.

He needed a plan. It was possible that he couldn't get what he wanted from a wheelchair. After considerable thought, he called a friend who'd been rotated stateside a month ago, told his story, and began the process of getting himself out of there by the time the cavalry arrived. It would be against medical advice, but Charles could do rehab at home. Would do rehab at home, where it was less humiliating. He just needed out of there, needed to move faster than they could. Needed to be somewhere he couldn't hear their pitying thoughts and doubt.

Before he did any of that, though... He was going to find Erik.

Charles reached out, and pressed the call button. Just as well to get the show on the road immediately.

The nurses weren't pleased, wouldn't be pleased, and Charles sat through a lengthy discussion with his doctor about his plans before they promised to release him in the morning. He was in a physical safety zone, and he managed to push through the annoyingly large pile of helpful pamphlets they'd left for him, including numbers to call for house remodeling. He had ideas of his own about that, ideas about what he wanted and how to do it, plans.

He'd need specialists, and he'd find them. For now, he had priorities, and those lay strictly in the realm of finding Erik and getting everything set straight. That included getting rid of Headmaster Neal and figuring out what had happened to Richard. Perhaps that was a lofty goal, but if a man didn't have a few of those, he didn't have much. Anyway, it put his head a few steps forward of the immediate need to find Erik, which was a hamster on a wheel he couldn't do overly much with just then. He was sure Erik was scared and had probably mourned him, but that was fixable. With the instruction he'd had, they wouldn't have placed him too poorly into training for the service sector. He would be fine, safe, back in the confines of the Renssel.

Perhaps if he told himself that often enough, he'd come to believe it.

Still, it kept him shored up through leaving the hospital, through being helped into the limousine for which he'd called, through checking in at the Waldorf-Astoria. After that it became difficult. Too much time, nothing to do except make phone calls, arrange for contractors to meet him in Salem Center in a week. Seven days should be enough time for him to straighten things out, surely, if he put every ounce of determination into it and quite a bit of money. He had money. Money wasn't a problem, would never be a problem, and even in a nice hotel, there were problems. The sink was too high (or his wheelchair was too low), the shower was impossible, and by the time that Gibbs arrived, he was a wound up wreck.

Jethro Gibbs was the epitome of Marine -- faithful, methodical, a damn good shot, and just a little crazy. He was also a good friend, and the kind of man Charles wanted by his side in a fight. "Hello, Jethro."

"Chuck. You got shorter. Kind of used to looking you in the eye." And Charles was kind of unaccustomed to looking everyone in the crotch. Gibbs was smiling, though, and he was glad that Charles was still alive. As far as Gibbs was concerned, alive was the important part. All the rest could be fixed.

"Yes. Well. That's both of us, then. Incoming fire. There was a missile. It sent all of us topsy-turvy. I'm afraid I landed badly, and... Well." He rolled further back in the room, waved a hand towards a chair. Gibbs shut the door behind himself and walked forwards. He didn't offer Charles any assistance, and that made him feel stupidly grateful. "The reports back to the Renssel were unfortunate. They've shipped my Companion off somewhere. I need to get him back." Immediately, if not sooner. "Somehow, I didn't think I would be forceful enough on my own like this to get the kinds of results I need. You were the first person who came to mind. You always get results, Jethro."

"Yeah, that's true. You told them to get him back, and you don't think they have yet." Gibbs sat down, half-looking around the room. "Just tell me what I can do."

Charles let his mouth curl upwards despite his frazzled, serious thoughts. "Stand by me. If they have an ounce of sense, they'll have him at the school when we arrive. If they don't...."

"If they don't, I'll do what you can't." But would, and Gibbs knew it. Gibbs knew that Charles didn't leave people in the battlefield and that extended to real life when he could help it. "All right. You ready to go?"

"I gave him twenty-four hours. That time elapses in forty-five minutes." He steeled himself. "I'm ready. There should be a car out front by the time we arrive downstairs."

Thank god for elevators.

"Right. We'll get him back." Gibbs stood up, seemed to be waiting for Charles, hands in his pockets while he stood there. They'd actually met arguing, and argued around each other, and it had been some bizarre tactical thing that Charles couldn't even clearly recall except that he respected Gibbs for standing up to an officer.

He put his hands down and began to roll the chair. His shoulders were tense, tight, and his arms were killing him. His back was a study in agony, and it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except getting to the school and getting Erik.

Gibbs was quiet, and Charles only half remembered to try to make small talk -- ask after his wife and little girl, because Gibbs was older and he had a family at home. The girl was just past one year old and her father doted on her, sent her packages full of little Oriental dolls and keepsakes, never mind that she wasn't old enough actually to play with them as yet. It was sweet, and it had prompted Charles to send things to Erik that he might like as well -- metal spheres, chopsticks, a variety of small interesting things that he had loved.

Being helped into the car was somewhat humiliating, but Charles could live with that. He did, in any case, and accepted the help he needed getting out as well. There were pills in his pocket, pills he needed, but he wasn't going to take them. Not yet, not until they had things straightened out, had Erik safely where he should be.

Part of him just expected that Erik would be there, waiting for him to see. He knew what Erik looked like when he was hale and hearty, had a relatively recent picture of him. Benefactors weren't supposed to see their Companions except in pictures until they Went Home, but neither were Companions supposed to be shipped off to service status.

"It'll be okay," Gibbs said, quietly, while Charles eyed the rows of stairs to get into the place.

"Yes." It would be even if he had to take everything apart with his bare hands. With his mind. It would be all right because he had to believe that in order to keep going. At this point, it was vitally necessary that he believe. "Backwards, I think. I'll hold on."

"Right. I'll take it slow." Gibbs waited for him to turn the chair around himself, and then and only then put his hands on the handles. Each step still jarred Charles badly. He could feel his lower back start to tingle in protest by the time they reached the top.

He still refrained from pulling out his pill bottle, grinding his teeth together tightly instead as a representative hurried towards them. He looked frazzled, young, and if that was the new headmaster, Charles knew he was going to have him for lunch. Older than Charles, of course, but not by much, and the panic was palpable. "Benefactor Xavier, hah, who would've guessed that twenty-four hours meant twenty-four hours. Uh, if you'd like to follow me to my office..."

"No." He wouldn't, in fact. "I want to see my Companion in person right now. In front of me. I want visible proof that he's been returned to the Renssel." If he wasn't....

It wasn't a discussion the Headmaster wanted to have at the top of the steps, and he was eyeing Gibbs like he thought he was going to hurl him down the stairs. "We're still in the process of retrieving him, Benefactor Xavier, what happened with Erik is... complicated. Benefactor Stryker pulled him from the Service School and moved him to a government facility. They said they need forty-eight hours to process him out."

Every ounce of blood rushed out of Charles's head for a moment, and he felt a shudder ripple through him, partially shock, mostly pain. "A government facility." He spoke slowly, fury rushing in to make up for it. "Forty-eight hours. No, I don't believe that's acceptable. I demand that Benefactor Stryker present himself here immediately, if not sooner. If Erik isn't here just as quickly as Benefactor Stryker, I will be calling a press conference. In fact." And oh, it was a lie, but it wouldn't take him long. No, it wouldn't. "My lawyer is already making arrangements for one."

Headmaster Neal's openmouthed stare was almost exactly as he'd expected, a little shocked, a little blank. "Sir, would you like to come inside? I have a few phone calls I need to make."

"I expect you do." He glanced up at Jethro, grateful for him, for his presence. He just loomed, looked vaguely terrifying and solid, and Charles needed that at the moment, needed the reassurance of it. Placing his hands on the grips of his wheels, Charles forced himself forward, outstripping Headmaster Neal in short order. "Have coffee brought for us." He didn't know where he was going, but he'd find somewhere of his own choice, by god.

"Yes, sir." Neal dropped off, for a moment, talking to someone along the side, and Gibbs fell into easy step with him.

"Do you know where this facility might be?" Jethro was already thinking of whether he might know someone who worked there to contact. That was a good thought, and Charles could feel the panic rolling off of Neal in waves.

His head jerked back momentarily, eyeing his assistant, and then he rushed forward, half-jogging to catch up to him. "I'm afraid all he said was that the location was classified."

Jethro knew more people than Charles did. He would have better luck calling in favors. "We'll wait here." There was an open door ahead leading into a parlor. The walls were a warm honey overwhelmed by gilt-framed paintings and the furniture appeared rather dainty. "Coffee, and Benefactor Stryker. I also require a telephone." Let them find a damned phone line long enough to reach. They would, or... well. He didn't know.

Gibbs was smirking a little, and walked off to grab a chair for himself from that parlor. The door looked too narrow for the chair to get through, and that was pissing him off, too, but he'd stopped before he'd realized it. "Coffee is on its way. I, uh, I'm so sorry about this, Benefactor Xavier, we really thought you were dead."

"Where is Headmaster Richard? And what exactly are you doing here? You're a bit young for this position, surely, and he'd never have allowed children to be sent away without knowing every last detail." And then some.

"Headmaster Richard was replaced by the council, and they chose me to replace him." Neal was talking over his shoulder as he headed inside, grabbing a phone to walk back out with. "It's been a very hectic turnover. I was informed of your death by the council the second day I was here."

"Hm." Yes, and undoubtedly that was the reason he had been appointed. "I want the number for Headmaster Richard." He wanted quite a lot of things, in fact. He was going to get them, too. Believing was half the battle.

"Yes." The man left him the phone, and turned back to his office, still moving in a panicked flurry. He'd better be getting him that number as well. "I'll send the number. Then I'll be calling Benefactor Stryker."

Charles called after him, "You do that." He glanced up at Jethro and nodded. He didn't flinch, just left Charles there and followed Neal.

Jethro would know, possibly grab the phone from him, handle it smoothly as he went. After a few moments, the assistant hurried back with the number, and he took it. Charles dialed and waited for Richard to answer.

The click of the headset lifting was satisfying. _~"Richard speaking."~_

"Hello, Richard. This is Charles Xavier. Perhaps you remember me."

 _~"You... you are_ not _dead, that's so good to hear, how are you not dead, out of curiosity?"~_ And Charles remembered Richard. Remembered the ridiculous little dances and the like, and the smug feeling that he'd made all of the Benefactors realize just how young the children from whom they were choosing were.

"There was an accident. All I can guess is that the reports were mishandled, although...." He paused, licked his lips. "I suspect that there are certain reasons that you're no longer Headmaster. Reasons that Erik has been moved to some sort of government facility."

 _~"Erik...."~_ Richard trailed off. _~"Erik's a special boy, Benefactor Xavier. If I'd been there, he wouldn't have gone anywhere."~_

Charles nodded. "Yes. Exactly. I think someone, a very specific someone, in fact," and he knew it was Stryker, felt it in his bones, would know the second he appeared, "wanted rid of you so that Erik could be removed from the Renssel."

 _~"Your 'demise' fit pretty oddly to the timing."~_ Richard sounded like he was grousing a little. _~"I've managed to get Jackie back, transferred to the Renssel staff, but Erik.... Erik is out of my reach. I'm still trying."~_ When he'd met Erik, he'd had that tingle, that twinge that indicated a similar sort of mind, a difference of genetics. He didn't know what it would mean for Erik except that someone else knew, too.

And someone else knowing could only end badly.

"I demanded his return within twenty-four hours. Per the new headmaster, Benefactor Stryker has assured me another forty-eight hours is necessary." Charles paused. "I informed them that I was calling a press conference."

 _~"Well, embarrassing people is one way to make friends on the council, not that you care. I'm a little worried about forty-eight hours."~_ Charles was worried about forty-eight hours as well. Companions out of the chain of custody could be hurt, and being hurt was usually grounds for a Companion never going home, and he knew what Richard was thinking even at that distance. _~"Are you at the Renssel now?"~_

"Yes. Sitting outside of a lovely parlor with ridiculously small doors. Is it possible for you to meet me here?" He had a feeling that it would be for the best, having Richard visibly on his side. "I think I'd like it if the other council members came as well. I'd like them to see whatever transpires." Hopefully it would help them to see that Neal wasn't the man for the job, so to speak. Anyone who lost his Companion deserved his enmity, even if he was a mutant with a side-order of what Charles guessed to be luck.

 _~"I think we can manage that. Stryker included. Just stay there. Shouldn't take long."~_ Richard, with no powers at all except anger and his natural sensibilities, was going to be an excellent ally.

Charles hoped to the core of his being that would be enough.

"I'll see you as soon as you can." He cut off the phone, and closed his eyes just for a moment.

It seemed only seconds, but there was a throat clearing, and so he dragged open his lids and looked up. "You requested coffee, sir?"

"Yes. Yes, thank you."

He was so tired and shouldn't have been out of the hospital at all, only now it was catching up with him. He didn't quite thank the assistant, but took the cup and inhaled his first sip, just as he saw Jethro leaving the parlor.

"Kid's up in a place outside of Fort Drum." Jethro was coming towards him, mouth a grim line. "I called a buddy up there."

Charles slipped a hand in his pocket, pulled out the bottle. "Nothing good. I knew that." Knew it, and saw the fears running through Jethro's mind as clearly as if they'd been tossed up on a movie screen. He pressed down, opened the bottle, and took out one of the pills, popping it in his mouth and taking a swallow of coffee. "The previous headmaster is coming. I'm going to make a call." His mother's lawyer still dealt with his own legal wrangling. He'd make his threat of a press conference real.

"Do you want me to go up there?" Jethro would. He already wanted to go whether Charles said anything or not because whatever as going on there was against everything that Jethro stood for.

Yes. The answer was yes, but... "Wait with me until Richard arrives. Then..." Yes. Then, and he picked up the phone, dialing the lawyer.

Jethro nodded. "Okay. It's not a long drive." It was a long drive but he also knew Gibbs would be flying low on his drive.

Charles sighed. "I'm sorry to have dragged you into this." The phone kept ringing on the other end.

"Don't be. I know if things were reversed, you'd let me drag you into it." He sat down in the chair again and leaned over to get himself coffee. It was going to be a long, annoying evening.

 _~"Rogers, Schreiber, and Marshall."~_

"Yes. Charles Xavier. I need to speak with Adam Schreiber, Sr."

 _~"I'm sorry, he's in a conference right now."~_

God. "I need a press conference called immediately. If you give him a note, I feel sure that he'll be glad to make sure that happens. Two hours from now. I'm at the Waldorf-Astoria."

 _~"I will make sure he gets that note, sir."~_ If he had to pull the place down around his ears to get what he wanted then he would. He'd do anything so long as he got Erik back.

* * *

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home, go home, go home, he wanted to be safe in his bed, he wanted to be under his bed, and now he was going somewhere again, wrapped up in blankets and strapped into a seat like he couldn't unfasten it if he wanted, like he couldn't unfasten it with his mind if he wanted, like he couldn't bring the whole thing down. He could feel the engine rotors, but they were traveling, and he wasn't sure that all of the people there with him needed to die.

He wasn't sure that he'd survive if it fell out of the sky because he was tired and everything hurt, everything, from his head to his toes.

Mostly his head.

"He's coming around. Give him something to keep him under until we get there."

No, no, no. He didn't want anything. He didn't want that or to show them anything or... he didn't. He didn't!

He pushed back, felt the needle bend away before he even registered it was a needle because he was tired of drugs. He didn't want to do anything, he just wanted them to leave him alone. His throat hurt too much to talk, but he wanted to scream at them to go away to leave him alone even if it hadn't worked before.

Nothing had worked before.

"Turn him over." Dear God, no. No, no, no, because then there was sizzlepop and he lost his mind.

"Sir, we're due to touch down at the Renssel in ten minutes. I don't think...."

"Damn." He pressed his shoulders back against it hard, trying to hide his neck. "Fine. Fine. You hear that, you little bastard? You're almost back to your precious school."

Back to where he belonged except that he didn't anymore. He didn't, and he wouldn't be safe there. Erik wasn't sure that he'd be safe anywhere, not anymore.

Charles was dead. There was no reason for anyone to notice he was missing, and he'd been sent away from the school in the first place, and... Erik didn't know because his head hurt and his chest hurt and everything hurt, and he needed to stop thinking about how agonizing everything was. Maybe he could explode the engine when they took him off the helicopter. They deserved it. They all deserved it, and more than anything he wanted them to die. All of them, because he'd begged, he'd pleaded, and they just hadn't stopped. Not ever.

"Damn that man and his press conference." Whatever that meant. Erik wondered, he wanted to know. He wanted the headmaster, needed to demand, to know, why he'd let this happen. The day before he left, they'd sent in someone new, someone not Headmaster Richard.

Erik thought he might blow up that man, too.

He wasn't sure how to get him into the helicopter. The thought drifted a little while the plane jostled, or maybe he'd drifted off, because they were in the helopad behind the Renssel. Everything looked familiar, but the angle was wrong.

"Take him in. Xavier's making demands, but I'm going back to base." Who was making demands if Charles was dead? Back to where they'd tortured him, and Erik wanted to do something. Wanted to hurt him the way he'd been hurt, but there was a prick, a sting, and oh.

Oh.

His head dropped forwards, and he was half aware of the person carrying him chuckling a little. It was hard to focus, hard to do more than keep his eyes open. Home, he was home, he was home and everything would go away, then, wouldn't it, like it had never happened?

"Headmaster! Where do you want this put?"

"Oh dear God. He's going to kill me. In fact, he's going to kill all of us when he sees this. Um. Okay. Take him to the infirmary and for god's sake, be gentle. If we're going to die, I'd at least like it to be less painful rather than more. Jesus."

"There's no 'we' in going to die, Headmaster. Doesn't the whole 'choosing' thing get undone if someone buggered them? I'm pretty sure someone already buggered him, or can in the next five minutes. They're pretty interested in getting him back to the facility, and we could make this go away easy for you." Die, they were both going to die, as soon as he could coherently pull a chandelier down on him.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, you don't understand. There's a man down there who thinks he's the Terminator. Given a choice between him and having you people pissed off at me, I'm not stupid enough to choose you, okay? Just. Just follow me to the infirmary. Preferably before he sends the Terminator upstairs."

"Seriously?" They were still walking, and Erik wanted to twist, kick, but he wasn't sure how much he could manage. "Okay. The kid's Benefactor anywhere around?" He was being jostled hard, and he hoped that meant they were going downstairs.

"Yeah." That was an unfamiliar voice. "Benefactor Xavier is downstairs. Give me Companion Erik Magnus." There was a pause. "Now."

Charles was alive? Downstairs. He was downstairs, and alive, and Erik didn't care who the unfamiliar voice was because he wanted to see Charles, wanted to make sure it wasn't some sick drifty dream again because he'd had a few of those but it never stopped hurting when he was wrong. "Absolutely. Here." That was a harder jostle and he heard his own voice give a complaining noise.

The arms that took him moved him more gently, curling him upwards, letting his head rest on a shoulder. "There's going to be hell to pay for this."

"I swear." The new voice from the roof sounded nervous. "I swear I didn't know anything about this. At all. If I had known, I would never...."

"Ignorance isn't an excuse." Erik could feel when he started down another set of stairs, and oh god. Charles was there. That was two people saying Charles was here, or was it only one? But what the other man had said was right, a lot, a lot had happened. No. Happened made it sound like someone wasn't responsible, he'd learned hat in class. Happened wasn't right. A lot had been done to him, people had done things and not stopped, they hadn't ever stopped, and he wasn't sure how long it had been.

"I know. I am fully aware of that, and I... I take full responsibility." There was horror in that statement, in so many ways. "I do, I should have known that it was a ploy. I realized when they instated me that I wasn't fully qualified but...."

"Guy you replaced managed to track the kids down faster than you did. You didn't even think." Last of the stairs, and they, they were headed somewhere, around a corner, down a corridor? He was trying to wake up, shake off the sedative, get his eyes to open and stay open.

"Yeah, well, they weren't exactly paying me to think. They just tossed me in and said, hey, go to town, buddy, and by the way, we've got two dead Benefactors for you to deal with this week, how's that?" Squeal. Hinges, Erik could feel them opening, and other interesting metal bits, only.

"Dear God." Dear God, as if it was the only way to describe what was going on. "Dear God. Erik."

"I swear, I am so, so sorry. I had no idea, if I had known, he never would have left the Renssel, not ever, and..."

"He seems stable. I think they drugged him. No idea what's under the blankets." Erik knew. Erik knew everything they'd done to him, if he could just think and get his mind clear enough. He wanted Charles, he knew that was Charles's voice going 'dear god'. Charles was _alive_. They'd lied to him, they'd done bad things to him, and Erik... Erik was going to get revenge. He was, somehow. Some way. He was.

"I'll call Moira. She'll be able to do something."

"Uh. I'm sorry, but you can't...."

"The hell I can't!"

The headmaster went quiet, and Erik shifted, squirming, felt the man holding him shift. "Here, Chuck. He's waking up. How about that, Erik? You're going to be okay now." No. No, he wasn't, he wasn't going to be okay, he wasn't okay, but he was being shifted again and he managed to keep his right eye open.

"I think we need to get him to the infirmary," the headmaster finally said.

"I think you're lucky Chuck hasn't sued your ass into the ground yet. Wait a couple of weeks, though."

"Erik? Erik. It's me. Charles. Can you open your eyes for me?" _/Are you in there?/_

It startled him, hard, but he was being moved a third time and he didn't want to be moved again. He was tired. Every time someone moved him it hurt, and he'd just had enough. _/They said you were dead,/_ he thought, trying to open his eyes again and keep them that way.

It really was Charles, bald as anything, looking at him from an angle, and oh god that was a relief. It was really him.

 _/They're liars, Erik. They're very bad people, and I will find a way to be sure that they pay for what they've done to you. I won't rest until the person responsible is punished./_ "I don't trust your people with my Companion anymore. I don't trust you. He won't be staying here, not without a guard. And now I'm taking him for proper medical evaluation."

"That..." The headmaster was making sputtering noises, and Erik was shifting, trying to get an arm free of the blankets so he could touch Charles, hang on, something. Interact so it felt like less of a dream. "Could be understood, given the circumstances. Uh..."

 _/They cut me apart, they took me apart and put me back together, and I was awake, and I want them to die./_

"Given the circumstances, you need to shut your trap. You ready to go, Chuck?"

"Yes. If you will, please, Jethro. I... We'll call Moira from the hotel. I'll get Richard to accompany us. I feel sure that will be chaperone enough, under the circumstances. _/I promise./_

"I have a cell phone. We can call on the way." Headmaster Richard. Back but not useful. Erik threw off the blankets a little just so he could cling to Charles, and oh god he was alive. He was really alive. He was alive and he was going to fix everything.

"Sweet God." That was panicked, a little more than panicked, and he felt Charles's arms tighten infinitesimally. "Erik. Sweetheart. Please...." Please, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He couldn't stop it, not any more than he could stop a tidal wave.

"I'll start makin' calls. Here. Give me that phone, and get out of this room. Now!"

"I'll pick up another line. We'll get a chopper upstairs, go straight to that friend of yours. We're not going to wait."

He hated crying, hated it, but once he started he couldn't stop, and Charles was safe. Charles was his Benefactor, and he wasn't dead, and he just... couldn't stop crying.

* * *

  
"So." Moira looked grim and old. Charles was sure that he looked just as bad. They'd all been awake for hours, him, Jethro, Richard. Moira and her staff. "Do you want to know the full extent of things?"

No. The answer was no, truth be told, he didn't want to know. The problem was that he had to. "Tell me."

"I've seen autopsies tidied up better. Erik has..." She looked around the room, checking that no one else was in immediate view. "Unique physiology, and I think they were going to lengths to catalogue him. They sectioned out a portion of bone from his left femur, cracked his chest for I have no idea why, sectioned parts of his left arm's muscles, pulled the last of his milk teeth, cut out a molar. And then there's his brain. From what I can tell, they'd been using electrodes to, I assume, read how his abilities work. I'm still trying to tell if there's permanent damage, but I wouldn't be shocked if there were. We're doing everything by scans."

Christ. "I am going to take Neal and Benefactor Stryker apart. Piece by piece." Charles licked his lips and took a calming breath. "What can you do for him, Moira? Please. I... please."

"We have good technology, Charles." Moira's eyes drifted a little. "And there are some things we can try. We've still only heard rumors of mutants who can heal, I know that's what you're thinking. It's what I wish I could give you. He's got good stitches in, and we've got bone putty where it needs to be. If the scars bother you..."

"No. For god's sake, no, that's... what bothers me is that he's a child. He's a child for whom I'm responsible, for so many reasons, and he's in pain."

Jethro leaned forwards. "Kind of wondering if that attack on your unit was actually from the enemy."

"Given the timing of everything, Charles, I'm inclined to agree. I think it was less than friendly fire, and that they expected you to die so they didn't bother to double-check. They just assumed their men did it right." Moira's voice softened a little as she went on.

He ran his tongue across his teeth, thinking. "Just as well for me, then." He'd hold out hope for a mutant capable of healing, for so many reasons. Erik first. "Jethro, I know I've already asked for a great deal."

"Not that I'd call it. Go on." Jethro had to be tired, but he seemed together, more than Charles was. Erik had bled on him from hanging onto him, the jagged staple-stitches not quite... put together right. And he couldn't shake that, couldn't shake the thought of what had happened to Erik.

"I want you to find out everything you can. You've got amazing investigative talents, and I hope that you'll be able to find answers while you're still at home. I know you miss your wife and your daughter." He had a thing for redheads. It was a good thing he truly loved Shannon, or he might decide to chase after her as well. "Richard...."

"If your next words are 'smother Neal in his sleep', I think my moral qualms against murder can be set aside," Richard offered.

That sounded like a delicious plan. "Actually, I was hoping that you'd continue staying here. At least until we can get some proper chaperonage. I... I'm sure you understand that even when," not if, "you're back in place, I won't -- can't -- leave Erik at the Renssel again."

"I'll stay. The council will approve. Well, kids that age are bastards to each other. It looks like fun and games, but oh, they can bully each other like nothing I've ever seen, and if Erik comes back after almost two months all stitched up...? No, no, you need to get him over to the CCCC. Headmistress Heather won't put up with that shit."

Charles nodded. "And what are the chances that someone will come in to try and replace her in order to get at him?"

"I've heard of Lady Heather." Moira spoke up. "I've a cousin, Carson. His Companions... Well, it's a complicated story, but the long and short of it is that he moved to California with his Companions. Rodney's doing advanced studies at the CCCC. Heather is quite something."

She seemed to think quite a lot of the woman, and maybe that could help. It sounded like she was accustomed to complicated. "I think as long as Stryker's in any position of power, you're both at risk," Jethro offered.

"I'll take that under advisement. I had plans, things I wanted to do when my tour was up." Obviously those things were on hold for now. "Some of those things I can pursue on the West coast." Never mind that, in his depths, Charles knew he was East coast to his core.

And his home, his home... Was a place he honestly did not want to leave at all. "Well, there's no point in moving as long as Erik's not Come Home yet," Richard pointed out. "That's still, what, seven years away? Stryker might have ended up dead somewhere before then."

Yes. If he was lucky. If he did the things he wanted to do, the things he was well within his rights to do. He couldn't call the man out to a duel, not anymore. That didn't mean he couldn't find a way to give Erik the vengeance he desired in a way no nine year old should have to face. "It's a possibility."

Everyone in the room knew that he meant it was a likelihood. As soon as possible.

"It's always a possibility." Jethro stood up, half-stretching as he did so. "I'm going to head home, see what I can work from there. You call me if you need me to take care of anything, Chuck."

"I think we're all right for now. Charles, I can put you and Richard up for a few nights here. Might be easier than worry about getting back and forth." Moira stood up, too, probably to stare at Jethro's backside after she let him out.

She'd always been feisty. Perhaps if things hadn't been so complicated... but they had been, and now they were even more so. "Thank you. Very much." He was exhausted, in pain, and all he wanted was to curl up somewhere quiet with his medication to be traumatized.

"And perhaps you and I can have dinner, Dr. MacTaggert?" Ah, Richard. The man was quite interesting. Funny, the political gamut one had to run to be a Companion and the head of a school. He'd quite enjoyed his time as a Companion, hadn't wanted it to end, but there had been an accident. He'd made choices, very good ones, to protect young Companions. Charles couldn't help but like him.

"Well, if you're up to it, yes, I'd be delighted."

All Charles wanted to do was see, peek into Erik's room, make sure he was all right, even though Charles knew he was safer here than the school. Then he could go pull himself up onto a bed and pass out until morning. Looking at Erik just made the trauma worse, because they'd shaved his wild pale blond hair and his eyes were dull gray, and the most lucid moments Charles had seen had been Erik wanting all those people dead, and then the crying. That wasn't really lucid at all.

Moira was still trying to work out what the circle at the back of his neck implied. Mind control drug, maybe. She'd taken samples to test, but the equipment would take hours more to give a result.

"If you don't mind, I'll go see Erik before going to rest. Then I'm afraid I'll be done for the evening. Early to bed." God willing, he'd manage to sleep most of the night. With a little luck.

Emotional exhaustion alone would help, he supposed. "I'll leave some supper out for you if you change your mind." He'd LIKELY be eating it for breakfast, but it was as good an opportunity as any to wheel out of the room, arms screaming at him with every motion.

He made his way slowly to the room in which Erik rested. There was a nurse sitting in a chair off to the side, a book in her lap. Charles was immensely grateful for that kindness. "I'm just checking in. Moira says he's resting."

"Right now, yes. He's asleep." Asleep and not sedated, which were fine but important lines. He looked relatively comfortable, as far as one could be for a hospital bed. Erik's eyes were flicking behind the lids -- dream state, then, a good sign. Whatever brain damage he might have suffered hadn't affected that. Might have, because Charles was still hoping it was none at all.

Hope sprang eternal in the human breast, something Charles had long since learned even before he'd made his Choice.

He sat quietly with Erik for several minutes, cataloguing injuries in comparison to the chart at the end of the bed. The nurse didn't stop him or bother him. She simply kept him company while he tried to hold back his fury. Erik was injured, wounded, and he wanted to lash out, wanted to shatter the minds of the men who'd done that to him. Moira hadn't even mentioned some of the smaller injuries, but they were there, on the chart, quiet cataloging of every dent and bruise and violation.

His teeth were gritted tightly by the time he'd looked over it, but Erik was still alive. Despite the list, he was still alive, and that... would have to be enough. Charles would take what he had and be grateful for it, but Stryker and all of the people responsible were going to suffer at his hands eventually.

That was inevitable now.

* * *

  
Charles was good to him.

Charles was very good to him, even if being safe again hadn't stopped things from falling apart. He talked to Erik in his head because Erik didn't want to talk, couldn't seem to keep it together long enough to talk, and thinking it was a great deal easier. Charles talked with his mind, and Erik could do things with metal, and that made it so much less of a horrifying secret he needed to keep to himself.

Headmaster Richard had been with him when he woke up, and that was something. It was nice to see someone he recognized even if he'd been completely terrified to open his eyes at first. The grown-ups had talked outside in the hall so he couldn't hear but he had known it was all about him. Charles had told him it wasn't because he didn't deserve to know but because the other grown-ups were worried about upsetting him.

Erik had thought it was a little past worry about that because he was already upset. He couldn't... quite. Quite. Interact right. Stuff wasn't hitting him right, but it had been getting better. It was getting better, which was why they'd gotten on the airplane in the first place.

The stewardess had kept giving them dirty looks. He'd wondered why, but he hadn't asked. He'd just stayed where he was, glued tightly to Charles's side. When the stewardess flinched, and decided to sit down, Erik knew somewhere in him that Charles had done it. He didn't ask how or why or what she'd been thinking. He knew enough to guess that he didn't want to know. His hair was only just starting to grow back, white fuzz, and he still had a lot of stitches, and he was tired of being stared at. He preferred to be glued to Charles's side, an arm flung around him tightly. They were probably a sight, actually, because Charles had to get in and out of a wheelchair and Erik was barely managing to walk apace with him.

 _/Don't worry. We're going to be just fine. You're going to get better, and I promise. I promise I won't be far. I'll stay close to the new school for some time, and Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs will be working on discovering the full extent of responsibility for what happened to you./_

He could mostly hear Charles's heartbeat under his ear, because they were far away from the engines, up near the front. _/But you live in New York. You have a home./_

Charles gently stroked his fingers over Erik's scalp. _/I do. I do have a home in New York, and I plan to start a school. One for children like you, like me, to try and help them. I never want this to happen to anyone again, not if I can stop it. But for now... for now I'm going to stay near you. Headmaster Richard says that the Headmistress in California will be able to keep you safe./_

And Charles was going to see if someone in California could help with his back. Good. Good, as long as it was good for both of them. Fingers over his scalp felt very good, extraordinarily so, and Erik closed his eyes again. They were going on about fastening seat belts for landing, tray tables up, and being there was good, he guessed. _/Will they let me see you?/_

 _/It's not standard. You aren't supposed to have seen me at all for another seven years but I'll be close. I promise you, I won't leave you, Erik. I'll stay close./_ Charles was fastening his seat belt, fastening Erik's without making him let go.

If he kept his eyes closed, they'd think he was asleep. _/I was so afraid of what might happen when you found out./_

The flood of warm feelings nearly overwhelmed him. _/I would never abandon you, Erik. You're my Companion. You're my Choice, no matter what else happens./_

 _/Okay./_ Okay, and seven years was a lot of time. It was almost as old as he was all over again, but as long as no one took off with him or put him on a train, he'd be okay. In seven years, Charles would come back for him. And he could still Go Home.

"Sir, you need to put the seat arm down..."

"I'm sorry. He's been ill, and he's sleeping. I know it's required but..." Erik didn't feel it, exactly, but he knew it was there.

The stewardess nodded, mouth curling upwards in an understanding smile. "Of course, sir. He does look terribly tired."

And he had stitches across his forehead, still, which looked bad and sort of fascinating, because all Erik could think about were goofy monster movies. He exhaled, squirming a little, tucking his legs up. The seat belt had a lot of leeway, and he stayed still through the landing while the plane slowed and taxied. He could feel a lot of metal, but he didn't want to reach out and touch it, didn't want to concentrate and do anything. Later.

"Excuse me." It was the first time Charles had spoken aloud in hours. "Could you call someone to help us? I'm afraid I'm quite new to the wheelchair and so it would be greatly appreciated."

"Oh, oh yes. It's already been arranged." He heard someone saying, and finally moved, opening his eyes and pulling away only enough to find his seat belt buckle. They were supposed to head to the school right away because there wasn't a chaperone which was just stupid. Like Charles was going to do anything dirty to him when he was _nine_. Even if he didn't know what dirty things there were, exactly, he knew Charles wasn't like that. Especially since he was hurt.

"Thank you." Erik felt an arm slide around him, gently holding him close. "Go back to sleep, Erik. We'll be here a little while. I know you still need to rest."

Last ones off the plane. Erik jammed a foot against the side wall of the plane, and laid his head back down. It was a good rest, just tired, no drugs, no sizzlepop, no needles. Just warm and close and safe, and Charles would make sure that he stayed that way.

People moved around them, advanced off of the plane. He could hear some of them complaining, some people helping others. Humans were strange. Some of them were very nice, some of them didn't seem nice at all. He wondered how hard it was to be nice that so many people didn't seem to manage it and he decided that he wasn't going to be nice. Not to strangers. Not to anybody who didn't deserve it. Just to Charles, and maybe the gunnery sergeant. Jethro.

He was okay for a normal human. He was very much okay, and that was a short list. Headmaster Richard, maybe, except Erik wasn't ever going to see him again so there wasn't any point. Headmaster Neal was on the other list.

Erik drifted off like that, woke when he was jostled a little because Charles was trying to wake him up. Help was there. Good. Erik wasn't any use to push Charles's chair, not that Charles wanted anyone to, and he only managed the carryon because it had metal.

"Thank you. I don't mean to be trouble, but there was an accident, and... well." That was all he said, all he needed to say. "Erik. Come here. We'll let someone else carry the bag. I know you don't feel well."

It was so easy with Charles. Everyone just fell into line, and even if he said he didn't do things like that ordinarily, well. It didn't matter. Right now, Erik had a feeling he would do almost anything to make things easier for him. It was good to feel like he had a little bit of power in the world. It made him feel better after a lot of no power over anything at all. His leg hurt, and his arm hurt, one whole side. He didn't know why they hadn't just cut him open at the side, too, instead of the chest, because they could've just stuck a zipper in and saved themselves and him some time and cutting, and...

He felt Charles nudge him with his mind, and it startled him, made him exhale. _/Sorry./_ The other stewardess was making a concerned face. "Hi. We've got someone coming to help you and our dad out to the cars. You were really good on the flight." She was holding something in her hand, out to him, and he reached, let her pass him a little metal pin. Oh.

"Thank you." That was Charles, and so he offered her a little smile before he hid his face against Charles's arm, and just held the pin tight in his hand. _/Do you like it?/_

 _/Yes./_ He liked the feel of it and he couldn't quite say anything because good things were making him desperately sad because he'd had all sorts of little metal things from Charles before and they were gone, packed up with his room and not coming back to him.

 _/I'll buy you new things, Erik. I promise. Things you'll love. And I'll find a way to replace all of the old things if you want them./_

 _/No, just.../_ He had to stop for a moment, work through a few thoughts. _/It wasn't the things. It was the memories. And your letters. And pictures./_ And now his head was all scrambled and he didn't have Charles's letters to use to pin things in place with.

 _/When we're somewhere still, and quiet. I'll speak with your Headmistress, and... and I'll help you, Erik. Before today is over. I'll help you to place things back together, and I'll stay close enough for us to speak. Just like this./_

The plane was almost empty now and there was someone at the door just for them.

 _/Okay./_ Erik stayed leaning into Charles as long as he could before moving back, watching Charles transfer himself on unsteady arms from the seat to his wheelchair. His legs were limp, loose joints, and he wished there were something he could do to help Charles. Maybe when he was older.

He'd study, learn how to fix things. Maybe if he got really good, he could do something with metal, make Charles able to walk forever. That would be cool, but he'd ask Charles about it first. He'd learn more things, then he'd be able to make it work.

"Now you, Erik. Come along."

He carefully clambered up onto Charles's lap, still clinging to the pin he'd been given. It was just a relief, not to be immediately hurting. He was where he should be and Charles would protect him. That was Charles's job, the first thing Headmaster Richard had taught them. A good Benefactor would do everything in his power to be sure that his Companion was safe and well-treated. Erik had never doubted that Charles was a good Benefactor.

All of this was just proof of that fact.

The man from the airport began to push and they were wheeled through a close corridor that made Erik shudder. It wasn't all that much like where he'd been, but he couldn't see very far, and he didn't like that at all. Nothing much had bothered him before and now he had a long list, and a lot of thoughts he didn't want to have. He kept his eyes open, though, because it was a new area. Trouble could be anywhere and there was just him to try and protect Charles, only Charles to protect him.

That was scary enough to keep him awake even though Charles was gently suggesting that sleep wouldn't be a bad idea. There were people everywhere once they were in the airport proper, however, and he just couldn't. He kept his eyes open every second, watched people suspiciously as they passed, even after they'd gone past the luggage carousels.

He needed to be alert until they got into the taxi, still watching for something to go wrong even though it was all going very smoothly. He got up, and Charles was going to get into the taxi, and then they'd go to the school.

The idea of that worried him. It scared him and it made him angry. _/I don't want to go./_

 _/I know./_ Charles was concentrating very hard, working his way out of the chair. _/Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do./_

 _/I want to stay with you./_ They kept covering that ground and Erik knew his answer wasn't going to change. It hadn't so far.

Seven years. He'd get to go home in seven years because he didn't want to stay in school, didn't need any more studying, not if Charles was going to start a school. He could study better at home.

In seven years.

He was quiet on the taxi ride over, and Charles just let him cling because his clinging time was counting down slowly. Neither of them spoke during the trip though he was sure Charles knew what he was thinking. When the cab rolled to a stop, an unexpected hiccough of sound burst from him, humiliating, making him angry.

"Erik...."

He couldn't, couldn't talk, couldn't manage to say anything that he could think, and he could feel his face turning red while he pulled back a little to look at Charles. _/I can't./_

"It's going to be all right." _/I promise. It will be all right. I'll find a way, and I think you'll learn to like it here./_ Charles stroked a hand over his narrow back, a comforting gesture that didn't help very much. Not really.

He liked the sentiment behind it, but he still had to pop open the door and get out of the way, and watch Charles get frustrated with the chair. Looking around, the place was flat and there was a lot of land. There were no stairs that he could see, which was nice.

Not yet.

He didn't have to let go yet, and he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it when the time came.

Once Charles was settled into the chair, he paid the taxi driver and settled their carryon into his lap. "Erik, do you think you'll be able to walk towards the building straight ahead? I'm given to understand that's where we should go."

 _/Yes./_ Straight ahead, nothing really confusing there. _/Am I going without you...?/_

"I'll be right behind you." Charles reached for the grips on his wheels. "We'll meet Headmistress Heather together. We'll talk about your curriculum, about what you'd like to do. I won't be leaving just yet."

 _/You will be, though./_ He was trying not to be sullen about it. Erik started to walk forward, moving steadily towards the building with as much togetherness and normalcy as he could muster.

"I know. And it isn't right, but it's... there are certain rules. If you leave here with me, you'll be shamed, Erik, and I... I'll be in jail. There won't be any recourse, no matter how much I wish there could be." Charles slowed down a little and glanced at him. "I want there to be a homecoming."

He tried to answer, but his mouth pulled down miserably, strangling down any urge to talk. _/Homecoming. I, I want that./_ He wanted to be Charles's Companion, and that meant waiting. It was lucky he wasn't already shamed.

 _/I know. I do, too. I promise you, Erik, things will be better. You can talk to me any time. I'll be within reach and I'll tell you if I ever have to go somewhere I can't hear you./_ Charles gave him the faintest of smiles. "They have a ramp. That's nice. Shall we?"

He nodded, and started up it. He could at least hold the door at the end of the ramp for Charles. _/So I can talk to you like this?/_

 _/I think so. I... there's a certain distance within which I can find a mind, one with which I'm familiar. I hope to find somewhere to stay that will be close enough to be able to maintain contact with you for as long as you need me./_ "Whew. This is something I obviously need to work on. Thank you, Erik."

 _/It hasn't been long,/_ Erik pointed out. That was why it was okay if he was half hysterical every time he tried to talk, because it hadn't been long.

The sun was still in his eyes just a little when he heard a woman's voice. "Hello. You must be Erik Magnus and Charles Xavier. I'm Headmistress Heather. Please come with me. I'll have someone bring tea."

He trailed after Charles once he let the door close and glanced up towards the source of the voice when he got closer. She was pretty, red-brown hair in waves to her shoulders, and it she wasn't leading them into an office. It looked more like the parlor Headmaster Richard used only the doors weren't stupid and there was a space wide enough for Charles's chair.

That was kind of cool, and he could feel the faint pleasure coming off of Charles. "Yes. Tea would be lovely. Thank you very much. I expect that Erik is a bit hungry, and I know that it's almost time for medications." His and Charles's, in fact. "It was a very long flight."

"I'm sure it was. Please, make yourselves comfortable." Erik moved to help Charles get the carryon off of his lap even if he wasn't sure how helpful he was.

 _/Thank you very much, Erik. Please sit down and rest for a bit. I know you're very uncertain and tired after the trip. I am as well./_ "Your hospitality is appreciated. I'm sure Richard has called you already."

He slouched down into a chair watching Heather, watching Charles. "He did. He told me everything."

 _/Everything?/_

Charles folded his hands in his lap. _/Don't worry, Erik. She'll need to know so that she can protect you./_ "Yes. I expect he did. He assured me that you were the only person whom he felt could fully protect Erik. I believe he implied that the headmaster at Galena would be more likely to roll over and show his belly to whoever asked."

"They're on their second one in five years," Heather remarked. "I have a reputation of handling a wide range of Companions with effectiveness. I will absolutely be able to protect Erik."

So she said, but Erik wasn't sure.

A young man came in, dark hair, dark eyes, smiling, a little goofy looking. There was a tea service on a tray that he sat on the coffee table. He waved a little at Erik, which made him nervous.

"Thank you, Jimmy. We'll be fine for now."

"I could bring back some more cookies, I mean, there are...."

"We'll be fine," Heather reinforced, and the young man shrugged easily and turned to leave.

Erik shifted, squirming down from the seat a little to get to the coffee table to pour because Charles leaning forward in the chair was not good. Not yet. Erik could pour tea and grab cookies and slink back to his chair.

The headmistress tilted her head. She watched him as he poured two cups, adding sugar to his and a thin slice of lemon to Charles's. "You pour remarkably well, Erik. Do you like tea?"

He bit his lip for a moment, handing Charles his tea before he took three cookies for himself. Just, just a word, just yes. Just yes. "Mmhm."

She smiled. "I had a young man here not so very long ago. He could speak, but he preferred not to do so. Quite a few of our students are familiar with American Sign Language. Would you like to learn?"

Charles sipped quietly at his tea, looking at Erik over the edge of the cup. _/I think you might end up liking it here, Erik. Just a little./_

 _/It might be okay. I really... can't talk, it just falls apart./_ He was nodding to Heather, though, balancing his teacup carefully on his knees, considering what cookie to take apart and eat before he had to take his medications.

"Erik is still having trouble following his experience." As if that word could cover it. "He finds it difficult to speak about anything just now. I know we've had a rather... unconventional few weeks."

Headmistress Heather nodded. "I've come to believe that there is no such thing as conventional over the last several years. The circumstances being what they were, you were adequately chaperoned. It's understandable. Have you brought the records from Dr. MacTaggert? There's a local Benefactor, an excellent physician. He's a trauma surgeon locally. I'll be glad to introduce you and let you determine for yourself if he's suitable to see Erik."

"I was given to understand that he's Dr. MacTaggert's cousin," Charles replied agreeably, and Erik could already guess that he had a new doctor, then. Moira had been okay but she wasn't in California, so that made sense.

Erik chewed slowly on the edge of a cookie, watching Charles lean forward just a little to pull the files out of the back of the carryon.

"Moira made sure that all of the information that would be needed was copied." Well. Most of it, Erik knew. Charles had carefully edited it before it had been printed. "I'm sure that Dr. Beckett will be able to call on her if he has any questions or needs to consult on something. Erik...." Charles reached out, chose a sandwich, and gently placed it on a saucer. He handed it to Erik. "This difficulty with speaking, she called it a sort of aphasia. Acquired childhood aphasia, I believe." _/Try a sandwich./_

 _/Cookies taste better./_ He took it, though, because he should and because generally sandwiches were good and edible.

"Ahhh." He could watch Heather's expression shift just a little, and that was annoying, because she thought he'd been putting it on, he knew that was what she'd been thinking. "I think we will definitely try the sign language, then, and see if it works. Headmaster Richard forwarded Erik's educational plan to me, but I thought you would want to make modifications."

"Yes, of course. I realize that my presence here is unusual, but under the circumstances..." Charles chose a sandwich for himself. "I will be staying nearby for the foreseeable future. I do have plans to begin a school in New York, but for the time being I'm afraid there's a great deal of physical therapy and physicians in my future." And in Erik's, although Charles didn't say it.

He didn't have to, really. "Well, we do have a high saturation rate of skilled physicians in the area," Heather said pleasantly. Erik let his eyes drift to watching Charles, and took a sip of his tea before he started to eat. "I would recommend resuming the more traditional letter communication as soon as possible to limit council attention being drawn to Erik."

"Of course."

No. No, he didn't want that, he wanted Charles to stay. He didn't want to be left.

 _/I know, but it's best not to call attention to you. I don't want anyone here inclined towards participating should Benefactor Stryker bring pressure to bear, and I promise. I will be close./_

 _/I don't... they won't get me again./_ And yes, Charles was there now, but he'd go to New York and then he wouldn't be close and it was stupid of Erik to feel miserable over something his Benefactor wanted and needed to do.

Heather inclined her head slightly. "Then if you will excuse me for a few minutes, I'll get the educational plan paperwork."

"Yes. Thank you. Perhaps you could also bring some information on Carson Beckett?" Charles gave her a smile that struggled just a bit. "I'd like to go over it with Erik." _/They won't. You liked Mr. Gibbs. He's going to help me be sure of that./_

"Of course."

She left, and while Erik finished his sandwich, he considered getting back into Charles's lap. He probably wasn't allowed. _/I liked him, yes. But there'll be other people who want to hurt us, won't there be? It doesn't stop with one bad person./_

 _/Sadly that's true, but we can't live our lives if we're always worried about the next danger, about when something will go wrong. I want you to live your life with hope, Erik. I want you to be happy./_ "You like the cookies. That's good."

 _/I was happy before./_ And it went back to that jumble, to the fact that not everything was connecting the way they had before, and he had intrusions in his thoughts from his thoughts, and... He nodded at Charles, knowing they had to look funny, not talking.

It didn't matter except it did. If they didn't seem normal, then people would notice, bad people. Headmaster Richard had been proven sickeningly right about that.

 _/Erik, please. Please allow me to do all of the worrying./_ It was a gentle request. He wished that he could.

Heather came back into the room, and Erik sat up a little straighter in the chair, while Charles shifted his attention to her. "I see that Erik has an inclination towards sciences...."

"Mmm, yes." Charles settled his cup and saucer on the table. "He's also fascinated by feats of engineering prowess."

It was strange because it felt like he wasn't there. Trying to talk and represent himself like he always did wasn't... doable. Erik zoned out a little while Charles and Heather discussed his plan of study for the next few years. His head hurt so he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, his heart was racing, pulse beating so hard he could feel it. Charles was still there, but he knew it wasn't for long.

He inhaled slowly, trying to slow down that scared racing feeling. _/Hi./_ The paperwork was gone now.

"It's time for me to go." Charles was being very gentle. It made Erik want to howl. "I don't want you to worry. I'll be close by if there's an emergency. _/And we'll talk this way, every day./_

 _/I don't want you to go./_ He shifted, slid off of the chair at least to hug Charles one last time.

 _/I know./_ He did. That was true. _/I'll be close./_ It was the most that he could promise.

It wasn't the same as being there. Erik held onto him tightly, trying to crystalize it into his mind. _/ I still don't have my memories right./_ It was stalling.

Charles leaned forward, and gently took his hands, cupping both of them between his own. "I know. I know it's going to be very hard, Erik. I wish I could make it better, and I'm going to try to do that, every day. Mr. Gibbs and I are going to find out who is responsible, and Dr. Beckett will come to see you. I won't be far at all."

He didn't want to cry, but he did, struggled down hiccoughs while he tried just to nod in agreement. _/I just..../_ He didn't know. he was sorry things had gone that way, and he wished he could manage to talk correctly, and that he could stop worrying.

There was simply no way that he could.

"Shhh. Shhh." Charles pulled him in closer, settled him on his legs and began to stroke his back gently. "I know. Cry if you want. It might help you feel better."

It didn't. Not really, except when he did give up fighting it, he got the front of Charles's shirt all wet, and his entire body felt terribly sore, but his chest had stopped heaving.

"He'll be all right," Heather said quietly from behind him. "I know this is the better choice."

"It doesn't mean I have to like it." No. No, it didn't, nor did it mean Erik had to like it, either. "I'll send you some things tomorrow. First thing," he promised, and used his shirt to wipe Erik's face.

He finally managed a nod without crying, rubbing a palm over his own face while he knelt up a little. _/And I'll get to see you again in seven years. But I can still talk to you like this. That helps./_

The headmistress leaned forward. "Let me have him, Benefactor. It will be best for all of us if you allow me to show him to his room now."

There was a blip of feeling, tight, something Erik couldn't quite understand. "Of course. I'll see you soon, Erik. I promise."

Except not, but he slipped off the chair, and tried not to look back too much while he stepped away, the headmistress holding her hand out to him. He didn't want to take it but he did out of politeness.

"Come. I think you'll learn to like it here. There are a lot of people who understand the art of silence." As if it was that easy.

She helped him to climb off of Charles's lap and began to lead him from the room. He looked back one final time, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out again.

It was going to be an awful long wait to Go Home.

* * *

  
He hated it here.

Hated it, hated it, hated it. Hated the people, hated the other students, hated everything about California.

He wanted to go Home. He wanted to be safe with Charles, instead of here.

It wasn't an option, but he could want it. He'd had a few friends back in New York, but New York wasn't safe and even though Headmistress Heather said a lot of students signed, they still expected him to talk because he could hear. And having to write _'I have brain damage'_ on a sheet of paper was excruciatingly humiliating because _'I can't talk'_ seemed to goad them into heights of trying to get him to talk.

He never wanted to leave his room again, and he wasn't going to. They'd have to drag him out, kicking and screaming, and he was determined that was what would happen.

Even if he got so hungry he wanted to die, he wasn't leaving.

He had plenty to occupy him and the most important part was that there were no other students there. None. Just himself and new books and new mechano sets and new clothes and he really wasn't going to think about what had happened, he wasn't.

Was. Not.

The knock on the door startled him, just a little. He gave no sound, nothing resembling invitation, but the door opened all the same. A man poked his head inside, offering him a dimpled smile. "Why, hello there, young man. Might I come inside?"

He didn't seem to expect any sort of real answer, because he stepped inside, leaving the door wide open. There was a chaperone outside, in the hall. "My cousin called to tell me about you. Moira thinks you're quite the little fighter. She's terribly fond of fighters, I must tell you."

Erik set his book down on the mattress, twisting a little to look at the man. He supposed he needed to get his pen and pad ready because a chaperone meant a sanctioned visit, and it clicked after a moment that this man had to be Dr. Beckett. He was probably there to poke at his stitches.

"I'm Carson. Dr. Carson Beckett. I'm a Benefactor with a very complicated story that you're not interested in hearing. Well. In any case, you'll likely hear my Companion complaining his head off despite the fact that he isn't my Companion anymore, but my brother's Companion's Companion, which... yes, makes no logical sense. So!" He sat down at Erik's desk chair. He looked oddly grown up in it and it made him wonder if he was a doctor or a madman. "Tell me how you're feeling." He pointed to Erik's pad of paper. "Before I poke and prod you. It's nicer to talk with you first."

Erik looked at him, and then down at the pad and scratched out a few lines. _I hate everyone here. I'm still tired. My head hurts. I can't talk. This isn't talking. I can't think right. It's not like it was._ Then he turned the pad around to show, to get it over with.

Dr. Beckett read what he had written and nodded. "I know. Traumatic injury is responsible for a lot of strange and unusual occurrences. Moira and I both think that you're going to come through this. You're a bright boy, Erik. You've got good grades and a quite interesting pattern of thoughts. A lot of people with your problem recover, did Moira tell you that?" He leaned forward and smiled, putting his elbows on his knees. "Most of them are like you. They've retained writing skills if they've learned how to write. It's a very good sign. May I touch you?"

No, she hadn't said anything about that, just the general he'd get better. Erik didn't want to bother writing, though, and just nodded his head a little.

"Thank you. I appreciate that you have confidence in me." He slid the chair forward and began gently exploring all of the sore, aching places. It wasn't bad -- his hands were warm, and they touched only lightly over clothes, which was the important part. Erik grimaced a little when the doctor got to his arm, because there was sore and then there was worse than sore.

"Oh. Well. May I pull up your sleeve? It doesn't look like it will fit over your arm high enough, though. Hm. Would you mind removing it, Erik?"

Lower upper arm. Erik nodded, moving to let the doctor do what he wanted because the chaperone was there and that meant it was safe. Unless the doctor wanted to experiment on him, in which case he liked to think that Moira would frown on it.

He hoped, anyway.

Erik laid his t-shirt on the bed, and Dr. Beckett took a closer look at his stitches, frowning. "Ah, well. There's a wee bit of infection, I think. Nothing that won't be cleared up with a little antibiotic ointment, so I don't think you should worry about it more than you might already be fretting. You're quite the little soldier, aren't you? Rodney would be wailing about how he was going to die and the world would have lost the greatest mind it had ever known." He gave Erik another of those dimpled smiles. "You'll understand when you see him, I expect. Loudest mouth stateside or across the water, either, but he's got a good heart. Now then." The doctor sat up straight. "May I look at your head, please?"

Erik slouched a little, and gestured to the row of stitches across his forehead, but he supposed it involved leaning forward, because the mess went right around his head in a circle. He was glad his hair was growing back.

Those hands continued, just as light, just as gentle. He had a headache so he flinched a little when Dr. Beckett probed at the back of his head. "You've got a bruise here, Mr. Erik, but it's coming right along. Looks quite a bit better than the photos Moira sent to me." He finally leaned back and smiled at him. "I like how you're doing. I expect that Benefactor Xavier will be delighted to hear of your progress. Are you hurting quite as much anymore?"

Erik gave a shrug, reaching for his notepad gain. _It's better. I still feel tired sore, not hurting sore. It's dull, not sharp._ Which Erik took as better, but he was still just... tired.

"When do you start to feel tired once you've gotten up and started classes, Erik?" Dr. Beckett leaned back and looked at him.

He reached to pull his t-shirt back on, nodding while he slid his arms through the sleeve holes and then pulled it down over his head. Another scrawl, then. _Usually by after lunch._

That seemed to be about what the doctor expected. "All right. Then I'm going to talk to the headmistress and arrange for a bit of a lie down after lunch. We'll get your schedule rearranged until you feel a little better, shall we?"

 _Sure. I don't usually nap._ But he could. He was tired enough, worn down enough that he could, for a while. He handed the sheet over because he was at the bottom.

"You don't have to nap. Sometimes taking a little time to lie down and rest when you're very tired does seem to help. I'll bet you get headaches when you're tired, yes?" Dr. Beckett folded his paper and laid it on Erik's desk.

That got Dr. Beckett a nod because he had one just then. But he had his room and his bed and books, so the fact this head was hurting didn't seem to matter quite so much.

"Do you get headaches every afternoon?" Another nod. "And do you get them at any other times?"

He gave a wavy hand gesture, because it was sometimes and it wasn't tied to anything that he'd noticed. Sometimes it felt like someone had put a knife through his head, and then it was gone again.

Dr. Beckett pulled out a notepad of his own and jotted down some indecipherable things. "All right. For now, I'll send over something for you to take when you have these headaches. I want you to do something for me, though, Mr. Erik. Can you help me to help you?"

Another nod, because why not? Why wouldn't he want help if it was something that was possible? Moira had been helpful. She'd put him back together, which seemed to be better and better every day.

"I want you to keep a calendar. I'll send you one so that it'll be easier. And every day you have a headache, or something hurts worse than dully, I want you to write it down, with the time as well. You're a very smart boy. I think you'll manage it quite well, and then we'll talk again in a few weeks."

The doctor was a very nice man, and the instructions were easy, simple. He was pretty grown up, he liked to think, so keeping a calendar wouldn't be hard. Neither would being left alone for a few weeks with no one prodding him, and a nap in the afternoon would be a good reason not to deal with any of the school's inhabitants.

"There we go, then. All settled." Dr. Beckett held out his hand. "You've been an excellent patient, young man. Thank you."

He shook the doctor's hand, and then wrote quickly on the remaining bit of hard cardboard from his notepad. _It was nice meeting you._ If he had to have a doctor, this one seemed all right. Even if he was a Benefactor, and they weren't really supposed to trust other Benefactors. Charles did, and that was good enough for Erik. He'd let him see into his mind, helped him with his own. He was sure of one thing: Charles wouldn't let someone near him if that person had any kind of desire to harm him.

"Now, then." The good doctor was smiling. "I hear you've missed lunch, and I'm to go down for a bit and see that Rodney hasn't peeled the paint away with his vituperations. You could come downstairs for a sandwich, or I could ask someone to send you a tray. I'm certain they won't mind."

Well. He could do with lunch, and if someone were there no one would say anything. He stood up and searched out a new notepad and pen, nodding at the doctor. It was easier when no one was trying to goad him to talk.

Dr. Beckett prattled on as they walked, telling him about Scotland, about his parents, about his new wife. The last made Erik shudder just a little, because Benefactors had that right. They had an obligation to the bloodline even if they chose male Companions.

Charles would need an heir someday, and the idea of Charles with a wife was just. Horrifying.

It preoccupied him a little as he entered the cafeteria with the doctor. The campus was big, sweeping, widely laid out, not at all like the cramped warren layout from back home. He was all right with wide and sweeping just then. It made it easier to breathe, easier to see what was coming at him. He might not like California, but it was better than New York because of that, at least. He'd have spent all of his days twitching there, unable to see what was coming at him.

"Here we go. It looks delicious."

It looked like food in the perfect serving, ready roughly by what Erik guessed were age groups. Half a sandwich, a cup of soup and an apple. Erik took his tray and turned, looking around to find a place to sit.

Dr. Beckett cleared his throat. "Look there. There's Rodney. Shall we sit with him? He's very interested in engineering and the sciences, not to mention piano. I think you might find there's something in common."

Well that felt manufactured, but Erik didn't say anything about it, just nodded. Rodney, when they got closer to the table with the doctor leading the way, was curly haired, wide mouthed, and scowling into his lunch and a book. He was one of the adults; well, Companions who'd gone home, and come back for schooling. He spoke immediately, not greeting them or introducing himself. "Sometimes I can't believe the monumental stupidity allowed into print. I mean, this drivel is so derivatory and wrong, wrong, wrong that it makes me want to cry. Who is this?"

Interesting. He sounded British, and Dr. Beckett was Scottish. "Do mind your manners, Rodney, or try anyway. I'd like you to meet Erik Magnus. He's new here and not feeling quite the thing. He's fond of science, so I thought he might like talking to you."

"Oh. Hi." It wasn't exactly cheerful, but Erik sat down across from him anyway, giving a little wave. "And do you talk?"

He shook his head, made a gesture to his notebook. Dr. Beckett nudged him lightly. "That leaves more time for Rodney to do so. He loves to hear himself."

"Well I generally know what I'm talking about which means quality and quantity." Erik quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, and you're how old, ten? You have a lot to learn."

"Rodney...." That warning tone was serious. "I told you Erik hasn't been well. I do still feel responsible for you. I can call John, you know."

"You wouldn't." He would, Erik was sure, but Rodney scowled a little. "All right, all right. You're new, it's probably very weird here, you can't talk which makes it worse, and if Carson is introducing you to me then you're probably smarter than the other kids your age. Here, look through this book and tell me where you understand to."

Erik peered at him suspiciously for a moment before taking the book and looking at it. It was obviously meant for older people to read as it was more complex than most of his current studies. Some of it made sense, though, and he could intuit some of the meaning through extrapolation.

He chewed through his sandwich and a good part of his soup, sliding back and fourth between pages while he worked out where he was as far as that book was concerned. _~Fourth chapter. I need a dictionary for some of the words.~_ He was better with diagrams.

That seemed to please Rodney a little. "I guess you're acceptable for your age." He sniffed. "Not as smart as I was, of course."

"That might be," Dr. Beckett murmured. "Nor as much of a cheeky bugger."

"Are you seeing the look he's giving me right now? He only seems sweet because he can't talk," Rodney scowled, turning the book around, and looking down at the page Erik had finally given up on. It was transmission line parameters, and it had hit Erik like his German text had suddenly turned to Greek. As good a place to admit defeat as any.

"Mmm, I bet you need the math first."

"And I know just the young man to help you with it."

Rodney looked like a small animal, caught in the dangerous glare of a cobra. "Not seriously!" The response was a little squeaky.

"Very seriously, Rodney. Very seriously. I think Headmistress Heather would greatly appreciate it as well. And John." Whoever John was, it seemed to be the sword to wield against Rodney.

"Sometimes I think you know me too well," Rodney grumbled, but Erik thought it seemed to lack heat. Still, if he didn't want to teach him....

Erik scratched on his pad. _Don't do it if you don't want to._

Reading it made Rodney huff. "Ha! As if anyone else could do it properly!"

Dr. Beckett seemed quite pleased with that, and, well. Learning more math, more everything, was always better. "We'll start very basic and work up because there's a lot of basic things not stressed well enough that you actually use later and there's enough basic things that are completely useless for later application that we could speed through it in a week or two," Rodney decided. "Write down your schedule, and we'll see where time fits."

Oh, that was very quick, but Erik glanced up at him for a moment, let it sink in before it clicked and he bent to start writing his schedule down on the sheet.

"Well. I believe my job here is done for the day. I'll be seeing you and John for dinner tomorrow, Rodney, don't forget."

"Yes, yes." He was reading Erik's writing upside down. "John said we'd bring dessert.

"Good lord. Who's making it?" He was going to have to ask, when the Doctor Benefactor was gone, what the story was. He wanted to know, but he knew better than to ask the man to his face. Better to ask the Companion.

"Don't panic, Carson. There's this bakery we found." Rodney's eyes glazed a bit. "It's divine. I promise."

"Oh. Good." Benefactor Beckett glanced over to Erik, "They both failed cooking spectacularly. It's a miracle they haven't starved to death yet. Be good, now, and I'll see you in a few weeks."

He gave a wave, setting his pen down before he gave the schedule sheet to Rodney. He just had to wait for the man to leave to ask.

"I'm sure he'll be good, and if he can't be good, he won't get caught." Yes, that was a crooked smile, all amused. "Go back to your emergency room, Carson. He's got work to do."

"Aye, well. Dinner." And then the Benefactor was leaving the cafeteria. Erik watched him every step of the way until he was out of sight, and then leaned on his elbow to scrawl on his notepad.

 _Why do they let him just wander around here?_

"Oh, that." Rodney picked up the rest of his sandwich to begin devouring it. "'s complicated." At least that's what it sounded like around the food until he swallowed. "He was my Benefactor, actually, but he Chose me because the morons at the school we were at in London tried to poison me with lemon. Me! Possibly the greatest mind of the century!"

Erik picked up his apple, but made a circular gesture with his hand. He wasn't sure why being Chosen because of lemon let a Benefactor just wander around.

Rodney gave him a wave of a hand. "His brother chose John, who's my Benefactor now. It got complicated. Alec -- he was an actor, really popular -- anyway, he died, and Carson took on both of us, but then it turned out John's mom ran away from her Benefactor and left him in London and his dad found him and it got weird and complicated." That mouth slanted downwards. "Carson chose me because he knew if he didn't, they'd kill me and call it an accident. We even changed schools because it was a possibility they'd kill me even though I'd been Chosen. He.... he's not, he doesn't swing in my direction. Well." He paused. "The direction of penises in general, and he ended up with two of us."

Erik made an understanding noise, nodding as he took another bite of his apple while he wrote. _How did John end up your Benefactor?_ It made him very glad that Charles liked, well. Him.

"I told you. It's complicated. He's actually got an older brother, can you believe that? Anyway. John and I were always together for Practicum, so when we met his older brother, Jackson, at last year's Choosing, it... well. Things are tangled and weird and there's lots of legal jargon. Long and short, John went from Companion to Benefactor and I went to wanted. Carson's still around with us a lot. He's a trauma doc and he's really nice. Since there was so much going on, Headmistress Heather got to know him. He's on staff now, for minor problems and other stuff. Still does trauma, though. Carson likes to suffer.

 _He's nice, as a doctor. His cousin's nice, too._ So that made sense, the wandering, the chaperone only being there while he was undressed, and then gone, because there apparently wasn't anything to worry about.

Rodney nodded. "I probably met the cousin. His mother threw this.. huge. Huge party when we went Home. I don't remember much of it. Carson gave us something for anxiety."

 _Was going Home good?_ He was still... still had mixed feelings that Charles had left him there, but he knew the rules and the pain felt less sharp than it had. Maybe he didn't hate everyone. There was at least one person here he could talk to. Learn from, maybe.

Time would tell.

"Ask me again after you start Practicum."

 _That's ages off~_ And so, he supposed, was Going Home. _You have my schedule. When can you help teach me?_

"Here, let's look at this again...." Rodney bent his curly head to eye Erik's schedule, and so he leaned in, too.

At least he'd teach him something, even if it wasn't what to expect going Home.

* * *

  
Sometimes, life got away from him.

It wasn't exactly as if a sense of humdrum had claimed him, no. It was that he was teaching and training a house full of teenagers in how best to utilize their abilities to protect themselves and the world. There were threats both large and small that were going to come to them, find them, before they were ready. For example, the mutant plant species that had taken over the local city park. Kudzu was quite interesting as a species. At least until it actually grew feet and began trying to strangle joggers first thing in the morning.

His pre-lunch class was due any moment, but he had a little bit of time. Time just for himself, although it hadn't been the most pleasant time of late.

Erik was having a difficult period. He was thirteen, and that was never an easy age. Charles remembered living through it, and he recalled that he'd been very difficult, to say the least. Then add to that the nature of being a Companion, and the nature of being Erik, Charles supposed. Erik was not sweet or submissive or a perfect little angel. He was, from what Charles had plucked out of conversation with Heather two weeks prior, a hellion compared to most of his age bracket. He was physical and most of them weren't physical outside of Practicum and the ones who enjoyed team sports.

Erik hated team sports and had a general dislike for people. He'd taken up running laps, but it was really only a matter of time before that failed to burn off whatever frustration he was picking up in Practicum.

 _/Good morning, Erik. I hope you're up already./_ He stopped short of asking about the weather.

Connecting with Erik was interesting. It was the easiest long-distance connection he'd ever made in terms of effort, and Erik's mind was exceedingly open to him. The direct word answers were usually floating on a sea of emotions and underlying thoughts and worries.

 _/It's supposed to be about seventy-six today./_ Erik was probably still in his room though he'd surprised Charles before. For his age, he was very much a morning person. _/And the headmistress is going to fax a permission form to you. She wants to put me in tai chi. I'd prefer kickboxing. How are you?/_

Tai chi wasn't so bad. At least he wouldn't have to call Carson and prepare him for incoming traumatic injuries. _/I'll be beginning my eleven o'clock politics class in a few moments. The children are already arriving, but I like to greet you as you begin the day./_

 _/I started a fight with William. Well, or he started a fight with me. I don't really remember./_ And he had an image of them both standing in Heather's parlor, looking filthy and pissed off at having been caught, and that was a scenario he had to work out too many times in his usual work day. Moira usually left Bobby and Scott's fights to him to handle, which was just as well.

At least Erik was brutally honest with Charles when it came to his sins and behavioral issues, even if it didn't seem to discourage them. Erik was pulling his shoes on, getting ready for class, it felt like. _/Practicum first. Which couldn't be further from an eleven a.m. politics course, could it?/_

 _/Well. No, in point of fact. Tell me that you aren't partnered with William for my own peace of mind./_ He'd hate to hear from Carson later that they'd decided to have a fight in the midst of Practicum.

He'd better send Heather several dozen roses, and possibly chocolates.

Charles could almost feel Erik's wicked smirk curving across his mouth. _/I'm going to have to apologize to your peace of mind. It should be fine. We're practicing body on body flexibility./_ And then shutter quick flashes of what that looked like in practice, and oh. Oh, that was a little cruel to inflict on him just then.

"Professor? Did you watch the president's speech last night?"

Well. Damn it all. "Come in, children. Yes, I saw it. Once everyone is seated, we'll discuss matters." _/Well. Thank you for that particular image./_ William was a bit gawky, and Erik looked ridiculously young. Teaching children had made his role as Benefactor a little difficult for him, but not so difficult he wasn't aware that the time would come when he and Erik were more than just two people communicating over vast distances.

 _/My pleasure. I'll leave you to your class, then./_ Charles started and closed the conversation, but generally it felt like Erik steered it, took control. When he Came Home, Jean would just be past eighteen, his oldest student, and no doubt on her way to college, with Scott fast on her heels. Hank and Warren and Bobby ranged from Erik's age up, but Bobby had a completely different maturity level than Erik.

Of course, the age issue was why Moira was there. Moira being there probably made Erik that fraction more firm than he might have otherwise been. "That's no way to declare a policy change," Jean sighed.

"But it was coherent. That's at least an improvement over the last guy," Bobby offered, falling into the couch rather than sitting.

Charles peered at him. "Bobby, do try not to destroy the furniture."

"Sorry, sir." Erik would've pulled a face at him and probably put his feet on the coffee table in response, dependent on his mood, and that was a thought he wasn't going to be able to shake. "If you'd watched it with us last night, we wouldn't have to be having class right now. We discussed it pretty well then."

"Bobby." Hank threw him a warning look, sparing Charles the effort. "You threw popcorn. Nuanced it was not."

"But we discussed it." Bobby was determined about that. "And Jean had a lot of good points, but the truth of the matter is still the fact that we're not embarrassed when the man stands up to speak. The last guy was about as coherent as one of the chickens out in the animal studies barn. Cluck-cluck-bak-bagak!"

"I'm happy to share my good points again," Jean pointed out. Charles preferred to take his recreational time away from the students, so he had a little time to clear his head, write, plan, let Moira roll her eyes at him.

There was only so much time he could bear to devote to the children, despite the fact that he was very fond of them all. A man occasionally needed time to think on his own, to pull himself firmly together in order to face everything that was coming. "Well. Now that we're all here and once everyone is seated, why don't you begin?"

Jean leaned back in the chair, and started with a not at all hesitant, "Well. I think we all know this discussion on civil military relations doesn't have much to do with the military and the state department and a lot to do with the military and the Avengers."

Yes. Jean was going to be quite brilliant and capable as an adult, as she already was, truth be told. Charles was proud of her, would continue to be proud of her as time went on, and not just Jean, either. He was proud of all of his children, even Bobby who pretended that a joke was all there was in the world, yet he saw just as deeply in his way as Jean or Hank.

He just didn't share it.

As far as political discussions, it did give him a chance to discuss more basic civil military operations in a historical context before he addressed the issues that were nearer to his heart -- groups like the Avengers. One day he suspected that his children might become something similar, might fight for to keep others safe. He hoped that when that time came he would have prepared them as best as he possibly could, and that he'd manage to protect the children who weren't yet able to fight for themselves.

It wasn't easy leading discussions, steering them where necessary, giving them challenges to keep them engaged. It did come naturally to Charles, naturally enough that by the time they'd bounced between Moira and himself two or three more times, he wasn't completely exhausted after dinner.

Occasionally, it was nice to have time in his study without the children, and with the occasional brandy. "One of these days," he told her, "I believe Scott might just begin speaking up for himself. In fact, I think he might make a very good leader. What do you think?"

Moira sat back in her chair, taking a sip of her own drink. "He's not very naturally bright, Charles, but he might be, He cares about people." About his friends, yes, in a very open way that left him hurt more often than not.

"And he works hard. That does make up for quite a lot." No, Scott wasn't as quick to pick things up as Jean or Hank but he was going to be incredibly capable. He'd be the one who could make a decision without seeing infinite repercussions based on ever possible decision.

He was the one who would make a decision and then deal with it, and the world needed people like that. "Yes, it does." Moira was eyeing him in that lazy sort of way that she did when she was a little relaxed and sipping a drink. "He's very pragmatic. Can't say that about Warren for all that the boy has enough money to rule the world."

"Well. Warren is a special case, I'm afraid. It's interesting to see the difference between him and Jean." Jean's family was old money, Benefactor stock. The Worthingtons were new money, so new that they occasionally squeaked.

Warren was a little spoiled, a little flighty, but intelligent when he applied himself. "Different sorts of entitlement. Not that either of us have a leg to stand on."

No, they really didn't. Charles was a Benefactor, and Moira came from a Benefactor family. Entitlement was certainly the world of the day, he supposed, but... "There's a difference, though, Moira. We have responsibilities defined for centuries to accompany our particular empowerment. The males have military service, the females have the joy of bearing Benefactor children." Yes. That did leave a bitter taste in the mouth, didn't it?

Even if one left the society entirely, there was no getting away for male sons. Moira snorted indelicately, and crossed her legs at the ankle. "Don't remind me. How is Erik?"

Well. That was indeed an excellent question. "Honestly? I'm not sure. He's been fighting with his partner for Practicum. Fisticuffs, no less. Heather called this morning, and he confessed when we spoke around noon. I'm not sure what to do with him."

"Fighting with his partner?" Moira's mouth twitched a little. "Did anyone say why? I'd say you could take him down a notch, but I somehow doubt you would."

Charles sipped his brandy thoughtfully. "All I can see is the way he looked when they finally brought him to me. He was so young, and they'd cut into him in so many places. Carson says that the scarring is better. Heather suggests that I send him to see a plastic surgeon. She thinks it might be better for him if we do something in order to minimize some of it. I'm not sure."

Moira licked her bottom lip, and took another sip of her alcohol tainted coffee. "I know this might sound like a daft question, but have you asked Erik what he wants to do about it?"

"No. I don't want him worrying that I'll find him repulsive whenever he comes Home." Not that Erik seemed to have much by way of self-doubt, in all honesty. He didn't take as much care as he should, either. His ribs were wired together. Fighting was ridiculously dangerous to him, and yet he couldn't seem to stop.

Erik just wasn't a naturally peaceful boy. He was all energy, and no regard for the damage that sort of energy could do. "Mmmm. If the scars don't bother you, I don't think I'd ever say anything about them, then."

He smiled at her, and leaned back in his wheelchair. "Yes, well. That was more or less my thought on the matter. I don't mind it for me. If someone could fix him, fix his ribs, fix..." All of the things that had gone wrong. "Then I'd jump at it. In a heartbeat. I shouldn't worry that he'll get in a fight and hurt himself badly, end up with Carson."

"He's thirteen." As if that explained everything and to a certain degree it did. "I remember you at that age, Charles. King of the world!"

"And already losing my hair." Still, he smiled, unable to stop himself. Life at home had been miserable, worse than miserable, but he'd lived through it. He'd admittedly had something of a terrible attitude now and then. Perhaps even more often than now and then. "I think perhaps it goes with the age."

"Mmmhm. I think you made the unfortunate mistake of choosing a Companion who's very much like you." Moira could mock him for it because she was of their society, and it didn't sting. The fact that occasionally they got too drunk and did things that he'd never quite admit to Erik, that stung a little. In hindsight. Mostly in the morning.

Charles shrugged. "He was the only one I found interesting. Quite fantastically so, in fact. The others were incredibly entertaining, I'm sure, all dancing together. I think a few might have been attempting to square dance. It was, all told, greatly disturbing. Erik wandered away from his partner."

Moira laughed a little. "So you picked the child who immediately didn't play well with others." Well, of course he would. Of course he would.

"What can I say? I have a fondness for people who know their own minds." And undoubtedly that wasn't changing any time soon.

"Hopefully he'll make it the next three years without damaging himself or the building," Moira suggested agreeably, pulling her feet up to curl up a little in the chair. "So, now that I've asked after your Companion, which is all good and proper. How're you doing? You looked tired at dinner."

Yes, well. Perhaps that was so. "I worry. He's fighting. That can't be good. Not in the least. And... Jethro called. Stryker's still very well protected. Government funding." He felt his mouth twist. "And he's a Benefactor. I can't imagine what hell it must be, to be his Companion."

"I've never seen his Companion." No, and neither had Charles. "For all we know, his Companion's in a cell somewhere." Living the life that Erik would have though he wasn't inclined to call it a life. Not with everything they'd done to him.

"If she's a mutant? Or if she's borne a child who is a mutant? Undoubtedly that is exactly where she is." Charles never so much as doubted for a moment that would be the case, nor that Stryker's Companion would be female. "And she might be there even if she isn't and hasn't."

"Yet. I can imagine he might make that a goal of his." He seemed sick enough, yes, and it didn't take a mind reader for Charles to know that Moira was thinking it. Every Benefactor was expected to have an heir, and it was something Charles never wanted to consider. Even Benefactors like Stryker.

"We're still working on following him. Being sure of... Well. I'm not even sure anymore. It helps to know he isn't anywhere near Erik, truth be told." Reaching up, he rubbed his forehead. "I think I'll go to bed before too much longer. It's been a long day."

"Is there anything I can do?" Rub his back, maybe, because stress made the tension horrible, and that strain fed discomfort. He was worried about Erik though, and that made it hard.

"Not tonight. Thank you all the same." He'd spent too much time thinking about Erik today, talking to him. It would only make him feel guilty and possibly dirty.

She nodded, uncurling from her chair. "I'll leave you to your comfort here, then. Hopefully things will be better in the morning."

"They usually are."

Maybe he'd go ahead and call Carson. Just in case.

Better to be safe than sorry.

* * *

  
Tai Chi was tedious and Practicum was not. It was most definitely not boring; it was frustrating and tiring because he was all wound up with nowhere to go. They didn't consistently put him with Will, but it was still the end result no matter with whom Heather partnered Erik. He was sexually frustrated and couldn't... couldn't help but respond with a little aggression, and it scared the other Companions.

It completely got Will and a couple of other Companions going.

They got to take classes he didn't take -- kickboxing, judo, all kinds of martial arts. All he wanted was an outlet.

It wasn't asking for much, dammit.

"Want a cigarette?" John was standing there, all blue eyes and swagger. He was a little crazy. Erik often wondered why anyone had Chosen somebody who was so obviously messed up, but it seemed hypocritical.

After all, John probably thought the same thing about him. "If you're offering." Sometimes he smoked, sometimes he didn't. It wasn't actually a need so much as an urge to prove that he could.

John handed one over. Erik never asked where they came from, just took one when it was offered. Will flicked his lighter and let Erik lean forward to get it lit. He took the first drag and felt the hit of nicotine almost immediately.

"So." Dean grinned at him, head dropping to the side. "Tai chi, huh?"

"Yeah, it's not funny. My Benefactor worries, is all." Too much. Charles worried a lot. He could feel it when they talked sometimes, and it wasn't as if Erik was trying to be worrisome.

He just felt angry sometimes. He wanted to go Home, and he didn't see why he had to stay here anymore. It was eight kinds of stupid. Nobody had anything important to teach him anymore. Rodney was gone, moved to some middle-of-nowhere place with his Benefactor for a project they were working on. That left him and these guys all in Practicum and a bunch of stupid etiquette classes.

Why the hell did he need etiquette classes anyway?

Dean laughed. "Could be worse, I guess. Could be Will's Benefactor."

Will shrugged his shoulders, but it looked more like a shiver to Erik. "So many cooking classes. But I like him. "

"You sort of have to," Dean said, nudging Will's shoulder. "We all sort of have to. Some of us just lucked out."

"I lucked out. Charles just..." Erik inhaled, and lowered the cigarette, letting it slowly drift out of his mouth. "I want to go Home now is all. Now. Yesterday. Years ago."

"Yeah, yeah." John rolled his eyes and cocked a hip forward, standing up. "We know how awesome your Benefactor is. Not questioning it, dude. Out of the four of us, you're doing pretty good comparatively."

"Still, Tai chi." It was very slow. Slow motions, slow control, lots of time for his mind to drift in circles and get more wound up than his body was. "Anyway, it's not my fault your Benefactor has just the one eyebrow."

"Hey, fuck you, buddy. I like that one eyebrow." As if he really did. Ha. Still, Dean reached out and pushed Erik's shoulder.

Erik grinned, and took another draw from the cigarette. "Hey, I didn't say it was a bad thing. They all have their quirks." Will could probably write a book because sometimes Erik read his letters and they were incredibly graphic. Squirming through Practicum graphic, only worse. Charles wrote idle sorts of letter sometimes, but there wasn't that sort of heaviness of intent of action to them. Just a general sense of looking forward to when Erik wasn't at the CCCC.

He definitely had the Benefactor most concerned about him, anyway, if the Tai Chi was anything to go on.

"Jesus, this is boring. I can't face one more class of somebody showing me how to pour tea. Do I look like a guy who needs to be pouring tea? I ask you." John stubbed out his cigarette. "I mean, c'mon. There's a lot of shit I could be doing in the world, but I'd like to avoid the hell out of pouring tea, for god's sake."

"I need to know," Will groused, and Dean made a scoffing noise.

"Cas drinks coffee. Straight from the pot sometimes. It's a waste." And Charles was somewhere in between, interested, Erik supposed, but not immensely bothered by whether Erik would do any of it right.

"Just think of it as another thirty wasted minutes." In another thirty minutes, after their break was over. Practicum had just... dragged. Dragged on and on and there was too much, frustration screaming along his spine.

"Yeah, like Practicum. Seriously, all any of us needs to practice. We just need to read Will's letters. Man, that shit'd be illegal if anybody sent it to a non-Companion."

"It's probably illegal in most states in the union," Erik smirked, and Will nudged his shoulder again. "Really. I don't ever want to think about -- that one I saw? You'd be like a Muppet. Kermit the Will."

"Hey, fuck you!" Will wasn't really angry that much. Erik had read the letters, and yeah. Fisting was probably in his future, but it felt good to get in a scuffle, work off a little tension.

He dropped his cigarette, and Will shoved him, and he shoved back and somewhere in there John was cheering while Erik twisted, dropping down to ram his shoulder into Will's stomach. It always seemed like a good way to take Will down, and Will always seemed to leave himself open to it for some reason. He'd done it a million times before, they both had, and Will responded with a fist that snuck towards his belly, but something was different this time. Something was _wrong_ , badly wrong, because he felt like he was coming apart when Will's fist landed high.

Erik staggered back, and then his legs gave out under him, and he didn't really feel when Will hit him in his stomach because the pain in his chest was so sharp and heavy. He pressed his hand against it, and that hurt, couldn't breathe, couldn't think through the pain hurt, it hurt like it had back after they'd cut him open up the middle and oh god. The metal wires felt all wrong, not lined up tidy but some on one side, some on the other, and it was fresh half-familiar agony all over again.

"Hey, man, stop! Something's wrong!" Very, very wrong, because he couldn't think, couldn't make the wires do what they should.

"Erik?" Will sounded scared, at least as scared as he was right now.

He kept his hand over the spot there because it felt like if he moved it, he'd fall open, and he knew that feeling, knew that before he'd been able to touch gone and skin and his hands covered in blood and oh god it hurt. "Chest's broken." That wasn't quite right, because he knew what it was called, but he didn't, it wasn't there.

"Shit, dude. What do we do?" Dean was hovering, and Will was standing there looking like he'd killed him.

John stepped up. "Okay. Dean, get rid of the cigarettes and beat it. Will, you stay with him." He swallowed audibly. "I'll get Headmistress."

She was going to kill them, one at a time, possibly using the cigarettes. Erik closed his eyes, inhaling through the pain and then exhaling in a whine It felt fresh, worse than ever, worse than when They'd used the saw.

"Just be still." Will's voice was shaking, his hands gentle on Erik's arm. "And tell me I didn't kill you."

He was still collapsed forward on his knees, and he didn't think he could really move from that position. "Not dead." Just maybe wishing he was because the pain brought memories on the last time, of what had started it all, and it was like they'd been buried under a pile of rubble.

Charles had done something with the memories, disconnected them, but they were back now, wound up in the pain. "Old, old injury."

"Jesus Christ. You should have told me!" Maybe he should have. Will was his friend, or the closest thing he had to one. It just hadn't occurred to him

He was trying not to react to the pain, even if it wasn't really working. "Don't like talking about it. Thought it was better." Now he'd have to explain. Will hadn't done anything wrong. It was just what they did -- scuffled, fought, acted like guys because they _were_ guys, it was just. It was how things were.

"Jesus." Will said it again. "Can I help you sit up, or...?"

He nodded shakily. He knew he needed to, knew that pressure would only make it hurt worse in the long run. Will pulled at his upper arm, and Erik felt muscles shift, felt an agonizing click before he was upright and still sitting on his knees. "'s, they took me apart, thought it got better Thought it was okay." He just had a faint line scar on his forehead now, and the one down the middle of his chest was old, healed looking.

Will's voice was faint, shaky. "Oh god. Why?" The question broke a little, squeaked in the middle.

"Because we're nothing to them." Erik closed his eyes, crushed tight against the pain, trying not to move, trying not to think. Because he and Charles were different, and Charles had helped him, pushed back the thoughts that had crowded his head until they were no more innocuous than a shut book. To help.

Charles....

 _/Erik? Erik, what's wrong?/_

"You're something to me." Will was fierce, adamant in what he said. "You're more than nothing. You're something."

"Yeah. So. Did it when my shoulder hit your stomach. Weakened it anyway." Too much torque, he could feel that now, too fast too much for bone that had knitted shittily. _/Waiting for the Headmistress. Broke my chest open./_

For a moment, he thought that he could feel Charles's shock in his mind, and then it cut off, like a faucet. _/I'll be there soon. Just... try to wait for the headmistress. I'll call Dr. Beckett./_

"Fuck, Erik. You're crazy, you know that? Completely insane, because...." Because he kept fighting with Will, and he shouldn't, only he hadn't really thought about it. He'd just done it because he needed to do it. He needed the outlet.

He needed a new outlet.

"I know." Better to say it happened then than when Will's hand hit his chest, pure pressure that had flexed it and it hadn't taken the strain. _/Don't dare. How would you know? He'll be here soon./_

 _/I'll be there soon,/_ Charles told him again, and then he was gone, or perhaps not so much gone as lingering at the edges of his mind. Erik wasn't certain.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Keep the blame, keep Will safe. Not do that again. It was all he could think about, all he could focus on when he finally heard people coming closer, the clack-clack-clack of high heels.

They stopped a foot from him. "Thank you, John. Please go to your room now. I'll call you later."

He opened his eyes, trying not to cry, not looking at Will. There was just grass and concrete out in front of him, the wide spaces of the campus, and waiting, trying not to move. It felt like his arms were paralyzed from the radiating pain.

"Are you comfortable?" It was a stupid question and Heather knew it. "Perhaps we can try to help you into a lying position. Dr. Beckett is on his way, and he suggests that we move you as little as possible, within limits, however...." However, she was very worried. It was obvious.

"Don't want to move." He'd have to end up on a stretcher or something soon, so there wasn't any point in moving yet. He wasn't looking at her, just kneeling there waiting. It felt so stupid and so painful, and Charles was going to get on a plane and go to all of that trouble because he'd suggested Will was going to end up a Muppet.

"William. I'm sure the two of you were probably engaging in fisticuffs again. For now, I would like for you to slip behind Erik. Provide him someone to rest back against if he can."

"Okay." Will still sounded all wrong, but he did as he was told, and slipped behind Erik on his knees.

With Will to lean back against, the muscles of his back stopped shaking with tension just a little. "Hit him in the stomach with my shoulder. Went all wrong." And Will was scared and the pain was bad, but he'd had pain, longer, inconceivably longer, and now that it was all in his head there wasn't any question why Charles had put it in a box. He almost wanted to be angry, and he almost wanted Charles to put it all back in the box again but Will was behind him, and that helped.

"Now. I know you can do this. I want you to close your eyes and think of something relaxing. Not fighting." Of course not fighting, but there wasn't much of anything that felt calming to him right at the moment.

He did close his eyes, trying not to, to fixate on those things that felt fresh and new, except his reality was strange. But he thought about books, and Rodney, and playing with his models and small functional things, and what he wanted to do was be in his room, putting together any invention at all, anything.

"That's good. You're doing just fine." Except every time he heard them speak, it drew him back out, drew him to the present and a certain amount of agony that was phenomenal, that made him want to yell, and possibly scream.

 _/Erik. I want you to open your mind to me now./_

He didn't know how not to, and the knee jerk knowledge that Charles meant the best for him made him open up to it. _/I'm sorry. I'm trying to relax./_

A flood of endorphins rushed in, and he gasped, shifting ever so slightly. It brought a spark of pain, but after that things seemed a little better, enough so that he could relax back against Will and let go of the tension that was rippling through him, making it impossible to maintain control of himself. It took down the hysterical edge that had been rising up in his mind, and Erik was grateful for that small relief while they waited for help under Headmistress Heather's watchful eye. He'd be okay. He would.

Charles would tell him if he sensed anything otherwise.

* * *

  
Moira had helped him pack a bag, and he'd chartered a plane to take him to California. It was just a matter of getting to the airport and getting in the air because he was going. He had to go, had to see Erik, had to be sure of him, of his care, of all the potential pitfalls and more.

Erik in a normal hospital setting was risky even with the Chaperones, even with Carson as present as he could be. He hated that he had to leave the school, that something could go wrong there while he was gone, but between a rock and a hard place there wasn't really much by way of choice to be made.

He wasn't surprised when his cell rang; only surprised that it was that soon. Erik would undoubtedly be in surgery by now, but he couldn't possibly be through the surgery yet.

 _~"Benefactor Xavier?"~_ Heather. Of course, he was doing things in the wrong order according to people who weren't telepaths. Notification first, then chartering a flight was the usual order. _~"I'm sorry, I was trying to get you in your office first."~_

"Yes. Is there something wrong? I was about to get on a plane. There's some business I need to take care of on the west coast...." Best to lead in that direction. It wasn't that difficult to believe.

 _~"Yes, there is. Erik is in surgery right now. His sternum has re-fractured."~_ As if it did it itself, but he knew how, roughly, had managed to get Erik calm enough to wait for help. It was still interesting to compare the reality of a situation to he way that people carefully phrased things.

Charles licked his lips, watching as one of the airport's attendants took his small case to be loaded. "I'll make a few calls, rearrange my plans. I assume Dr. Beckett is in attendance?" And that he'd be at the hospital already.

 _~"Yes. He's in surgery now."~_ Supervising, no doubt, and there would be a Chaperone watching through the window, as if it was even likely someone would breach a Companion mid-surgery.

"And when is surgery due to be finished?" He should be there when Erik woke. Should be, wanted to be there. Wanted to be the first thing Erik felt when he came out from under the anesthesia.

 _~"They should be finished by five thirty. They're going to have to remove the old bone growth. It apparently wasn't very solid. We do have a specialist working on him."~_

A specialist. It wouldn't be good enough to Charles, not even if it was the most eminent surgeon in the world. "Thank you." It was said as much to the headmistress as to the woman who was pushing his chair so that he could board the plane. It wasn't as nice as the one he had at home, but it was lighter, better for travel. "I'll be there as soon as possible. What will they need to do to him?"

 _~"Re-secure his sternum. With Dr. Beckett's consultation, they've decided to put in a sturdier device than the wires. He should be able to return to the school in a week if there are no complications."~_ She was thinking about the complications, though, of everything from infection to rejection of the device.

"Please have information for me when I arrive, Headmistress. Specs for the device, that sort of thing. I would appreciate it greatly."

 _~"Of course. Have a safe flight, Benefactor Xavier."~_ It wouldn't change the outcome of things, and it would likely be installed before he got there, but still. It felt like control over a situation where he had none.

He closed his eyes for a moment, gauging his trip, and finally opened them when it was time to shift out of his chair. "Thank you," he said again, and settled himself as carefully as he could.

"Can I get you a drink, Mr. Xavier?"

"Water, please." He wasn't necessarily thirsty, but it would help. It was going to be an excessively long flight, but at least Erik was under anesthetic and wouldn't require comforting while he traveled. Moira was still back at the mansion, trying to assure the students that there was nothing really too horrible going on. Never mind that it would have to be a lie. Charles settled in, leaning his chair back just a bit and closing his eyes. He would have to try and rest for a while, for all the good it would do.

He slept for a good portion of the trip, slept and looked out the window, and tried not to go deaf from the sound of the engines. It took what felt like forever, but he lost three hours or regained them, and it was still daylight when he got off of the plane.

There was a man with his name on a cardboard sign waiting for him. He was taken to the car where it immediately slipped into the traffic leaving the airport and towards the hospital. Despite sleeping on the trip, he was exhausted, tired to the bone, and so worried that he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

He wasn't sure what he could do when he arrived at the hospital, wasn't sure what to say to Erik or how to advise Headmistress Heather going forward. Charles just didn't have all the answers. He didn't have any answers, if he was honest with himself. He just knew that he had to be there, had to be present when Erik woke.

Perhaps now was a good time to call in the plastic surgeon someone had suggested. The trauma of the surgery would be bad enough; additional scarring would likely affect Erik badly, and Charles didn't want that. He'd already locked away what happened before, enough that Erik could get through his days without contemplating it overly. Now, it seemed to be back, and perhaps it was time to get him serious counseling, to do things that would help him find an equilibrium of his own.

Erik had felt a little angry about that, but he'd been nine when it had happened, and it was still hard for Charles not to remember the hysterical state he'd been in, and knew the damage an ongoing nervous breakdown at that age could do. There was just so much going on developmentally at that age that what Stryker had done could have seriously damaged. It was probably better now to let him process it on his own, even with the pitfalls involved.

The hospital was remarkably busy, full of patients, worried relatives, bustling medical personnel. Unsurprisingly, there was a Chaperone waiting for him in the lobby. There wasn't a name tag or any particular sign that marked her. Chaperones were often unchosen Companions, or Companions whose Benefactors had died and who remained at the schools to teach or provide support for the school. "Benefactor Xavier? Please, come with me. Headmistress Heather is waiting for you above."

Charles thanked her and wondered briefly just where 'above' was. Erik was out of surgery, he was sure, but still very likely deeply unconscious. The Chaperone walked slowly as if he'd have trouble keeping pace with her, heading for the elevators. Out of kindness, he didn't outstrip her immediately; simply pushed a little more quickly, and let her change her stride. "Do you know anything about the surgery?"

"It went well. Erik Magnus is in recovery, but he hasn't been moved to a room yet." Wouldn't be until later or the next morning, Charles knew. The risk of infection in that part of the body was so very high.

"May I see him?" He very badly wanted to see Erik, wanted to be sure that he was all right. He couldn't feel his mind now, not with the anesthesia still working in him.

She pushed the call button and shifted to look at him. "I think, uh..." It wasn't part of the script the girl had been given to work with and it wasn't what they'd expected of him, but they had to expect that Benefactors were obnoxiously self-centered creatures, intent on their own agendas. Charles was no different in that regard. "We should see the headmistress first."

"Of course." He wasn't agreeable to it, but Heather would be waiting near Erik, and that was where he wanted to go. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name." That could be excused. Charles was allowed to be worried, to be fretful about Erik, to be forgetful.

"Mary." She gave him a tight smile, putting a hand against the elevator door after it opened so he had an excess of time to wheel into the elevator.

"I'm sorry to meet you under such poor circumstances." He truly was and the overwhelming disapproval just added to that feeling. He'd prefer not to be meeting her at all, considering. She stepped inside, and hit the button for the third floor.

"Well, everyone knows Erik's..." There were words in her head that Charles didn't quite wish he was hearing, jumbled up together, but they ranged from 'a little asshole' to feisty like some fluffy white dog someone in her life had once had. "Energetic, something like this was bound to happen."

Perhaps. Perhaps, but she didn't have to sound as if it was inevitable, as if Erik wasn't a good Companion, which was at least partially what she truly did think. "He's my Companion. I like the fact that he has spirit. It's very important." The elevator began to rise.

"He has a lot of... spirit. We all think he'll be fine." And causing minor havoc, picking fights with Will and walking off with the stainless steel silverware to make sculpture out of in no time, a thought which would have delighted Charles under normal circumstances and left Mary feeling a little emotionally drained.

He closed his eyes for a moment, reached up to rub the spot between his brows. The day had been stupidly long, and it continued to increase infinitely with every second spent in her presence. Erik made her tired, and she generally disapproved of him. It wasn't meant spitefully, only he was one of a group of young Companions who made life difficult. There were four of them including Erik, Will among them, and he could see them as she watched them gather and chatter and smoke furtively.

It was funny that one of their biggest worries had been that, after moving, Erik would fail to make friends.

When the elevator doors opened, Charles beat her through them, and waited for her to come out, to give him enough signal that he could find Heather on his own. Mary's lips compressed a little, brows coming together, and then she stepped out and seemed to settle into herself, turning towards the waiting room. He followed along fairly patiently because at the end of the trip there was Heather, sitting on a sad plastic couch and waiting.

She stood up when she saw him, looking tense but poised as she ever was. She had a file folder in her hand, probably all of the information he'd asked for before his plane trip. "Benefactor Xavier, we are glad to have you here so quickly."

"Yes. I'm glad I already had a trip planned so that I could be here. Please tell me about Erik. I want to know everything you can possibly tell me."

"He's stable and the doctors are sure he'll be fine." Heather moistened her lips. "He was fighting with Will. Erik said that he rammed his shoulder into Will's stomach, and torqued his sternum then. There's every indication that the fight continued after that, at least for a while, but I think... I am not sure how much of his story is trying to assuage Will's guilt over his involvement, and how much of it is trying to protect Will from any repercussions that might follow. Erik has a bruise that was quite visible before the operation, dead center of his chest."

Charles nodded. "Of course. I think... I think with Erik, this was perhaps inevitable. He's very high-strung, and fighting is an emotional outlet. He doesn't see the need for restraint sometimes when he should. Youth being what it is...." Yes. Well. "I don't think it's at all William's fault. Not any more than fights that have passed previously."

"I'd be more concerned if there was any actual animosity between them, but. They're very close." Good friends, yes, and Erik needed a few of them. "I think... you and I and Erik need to sit and discuss his behavior. Or he needs another kind of Practicum course than the integrated course he's in now."

"Of course. We'll discuss that." They'd do something, in any case. Erotic literature, perhaps. The agreement that personal experimentation would be acceptable to him. With the right pressure, small and easy, he could get what he wanted. "Do they know when he should be waking?"

"As Erik's medical file noted, he comes out of anesthetic quickly. I suspect he'll be awake within the hour, though I'm not sure how coherent he's going to be." Mind to mind contact was both clearer and more confusing than trying to muddle through words.

"Thank you." For information, for being there, for he didn't know what. "Could you please clarify what was done during the surgery?"

"Of course." She handed over the folder and sat down, finally putting her closer to eye level. "The device is rather ingenious. It's a series of interlocking clamps which adjusted with a hand screw to accurately tighten Erik's sternum together. It's supposed to allow a much more active lifestyle than the wires had, which I suspect Erik's going to lead more than anyone might want him to."

He gave a tired laugh. "Yes. Well. Perhaps I should have known that already. He's very...." Stubborn. Physical. So many things that made him crazy and made him worried and made him hopeful for all the things that could be.

"Alive," Heather said, carefully, and while her words were always careful they were also always honest. "Alive and reveling in it, Charles. He wants to feel everything very intensely."

"I know." Perhaps better than Heather did because she had never been inside Erik's head. Then again, she had an excellent grasp of psychology so perhaps she was more aware of what was there than most people would be. "I'll be here for a few weeks. There should be plenty of time to work on revisions for his Practicum."

He watched the faint motion of Heather's mouth that preluded her protest. "Charles. We unfortunately can't have you seeing Erik for weeks. While he's hospitalized, yes. Believe me, this will get enough Council attention."

"I have business to attend to here which I have put off. I'll still have to take care of those things, Headmistress."

"Charles, we both know that you have no business to attend to in California. We have these rules in place for a reason, and Dr. Beckett's case is a fine example of what happens when one is overly involved and sees too much of a Companion too soon. I know you want to help him, but you can help Erik best by being here while he's in the hospital, and then allowing him to rebuild himself in such a way that you're not misinterpreted as a father figure."

He'd like to be angry about it; like to demand that she bow to his wishes. He wanted to be near Erik, wanted to comfort him, only it was an excellent point. He had to admit it. "I know."

"Despite that most of the staff think Erik is a walking behavioral issue, your relationship with him is very healthy. He'll be Going Home in just three years, Charles, unless you want to leave him for further education. He needs this time to develop."

"I know." He said it again and drew in a deep breath. "I truly do know. And he'll be coming Home immediately. As soon as possible. Erik is adamant about further education, and at this time, with the school where it is, it should be possible to provide that education in New York."

"Probably for the best. Will will be going home a month or so after Erik, and he was a little at loose ends after Rodney finished up his schooling here." No talk of separating the boys, no talk of punishment for Will because they both knew that Erik had probably provoked most of their scuffles. Three years couldn't come quite soon enough. "Would you like to see him now?"

"Of course." Yes, without a doubt. "I had thought of calling in a plastic surgeon, with the possibility that some of the scarring could be minimized. I don't want him to feel that he needs to be ashamed or worried because of all the scarring, and this will undoubtedly open up quite a few issues and problems that perhaps he had stuffed away to the back of his mind before now."

"Well, I've been waiting years for that to become a problem. He seemed to adjust so well, so quickly, after those first few weeks." Heather stood up, and didn't wait, but moved right away towards the hallway.

He wheeled after her, grateful that he didn't have to pause or linger or dawdle because someone else was lollygagging in order to wait for him when he didn't need it. "I feel sure you've also been contemplating appropriate forms of therapy."

He'd gotten very, very strong in the intervening years. "Yes. If you would allow me, I'm qualified to handle everything short of prescriptions which I don't think should be necessary. To outsource it from the campus could cause Erik to be reluctant, given the nature of who he is."

As well as what he was, though that went unspoken. "I would like regular progress reports. Also, understand that I'll talk to Erik about it to be sure he's getting the best out of your time together."

"Of course. All letters are sent unread and uncensored." Talk, write, they were very close. Heather nodded to a nurse and entered the double doors, heading right away to a curtained off bed at the back.

For a moment, he wanted to hold back, give himself a few second to prepare. Instead, he rolled forwards, and Heather held the curtain for him so that he could easily wheel up next to Erik's bed.

It was hard to see Erik injured, unconscious on a hospital bed. The tubes and IVs were hard to look at, and he looked younger than he was when he was injured, or perhaps it was just Charles's brain sliding him back four years. At least this time, Erik had all of his hair, and no one had removed his skull cap. He was covered in an inordinate amount of tape at the IV site, though, and Heather seemed to be following his eyes. "Oh, yes. The IV keeps falling out."

"Mmmm." Without a doubt. Erik hated needles, never mind that the drugs slipping into him kept him out of pain. "If you don't mind, I'll wait here."

The edge of Heather's eyes crinkled when she smiled at him. "I will, too."

It would be good to have company while he waited.

* * *

  
The urge to Go Home was worse than ever, and he had only just gotten out of the hospital. He felt better, though really understanding how tenuously his chest was holding together did put a damper on the urge to lift anything heavier than a can of soda. Doctor Beckett had told him quite animatedly that this time it should be completely healed together within the year.

And that if he did it again, they were going to use super glue, which he hoped was a joke, but. But. He really didn't want to think about super glue or stitches or a lot of things that were crowding his head, even if he was sitting in Headmistress Heather's parlor sipping tea. At least this time he could talk. And his head didn't feel... quite, quite as scrambled.

Charles had been working with him, trying to get his head into the right place. He had also said that he'd be spending a good deal of time with Headmistress Heather for some kind of therapy. He didn't like the idea of it, but it was something that he was going to have to do whether he wanted to or not, so he might as well suck it up and do it anyway.

Three more years.

Three more years.

Three more years, and the litany of it was constant at the back of his mind.

"So." He lifted his eyebrows at Heather, taking a sip of his tea. Heather was infinitely patient and Erik was not.

"So." She held her own cup, carefully balanced on her saucer. "I know you're feeling a bit better. How is the pain?"

"Better." He couldn't sleep on his chest or his side, which was probably the most annoying part so far. Most of the time he slept in a recliner that Charles had bought and sent to the school because it helped. He almost felt comfortable then, if such a thing could be called comfortable.

"Mmm. That's very good. You've been out of the hospital now long enough that I'm sure you already know your educational schedule is going to be rearranged slightly." Heather lifted her cup to her lips, swallowed, and then slipped it gently back into the saucer with a faint clink of china. "Practicum is no longer part of your curriculum."

He'd expected that but it almost hurt. Companions were held to a standard in terms of their prowess, though Erik was inclined to call it the ultimate in madonna whore complexes. "And what will I be doing instead?"

"Your Benefactor and I have discussed other arrangements, including a course in erotic literature, and some very closely monitored private experimentation." The headmistress offered him a plate of cookies. "Do eat. You've lost a little weight."

"Hospital food is bad," Erik offered, leaning forward to take a few cookies off of the plate. The swap in courses seemed more than adequate, and the goal was apparently to get him away from the other students. That was fine. "Is there anything else?"

That was not a good smile. Perhaps it would be if it was anyone else, but with the Headmistress, it was a sign that something was coming, possibly something unpleasant in which he didn't want to participate. "Yes. I have a present for you. When I spoke with Benefactor Xavier, we discussed several things. He sent over your present earlier today."

"Oh." He wasn't sure whether to be deeply concerned or interested. After all, Charles's presents were usually technical manuals, spools of good wire, transistors, things he needed to keep experimenting. Drafting paper, and a lot of it, as long as he mailed his scraps and bits back eventually.

"Shall I call Mary and have her bring it in, or would you like some more cookies?" She was teasing him with the idea of a present. It was rather well done of her if it was her intention that he be teased to the point of demanding to know what it was. It was his first instinct, after all.

"I'm interested in what 'it' might be." And in eating another cookie, so he leaned forward to take another one just because he could.

"Mary." She lifted her voice, just a bit. "You can bring him in now."

Him?

Him, and that meant there was a sound, ticky-tacky claws scrambling across the hardwood floor, a bumbling puppy that fell down, soft flesh sounding with a thump as it fell down in a tangle of limbs.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress. He got away again. He's a bit of a runner."

Erik set the cookie he as holding aside, and leaned forward a little, slowly, watching it come stumbling in their general direction. "Charles sent me a puppy?"

"An English pointer. He's been rather rambunctious, and he'll be very spirited. You'll have to take care of him, feed him, make sure you walk him. Charles thought that you might enjoy taking care of him, and I thought it would perhaps take up some of your extra time. The time you usually spend fighting. He hasn't a name as yet."

Erik stiffly lowered himself to the floor, cross-legged and leaning forward carefully to try to coax him over. He wuffled, and got back up, tottering again. "So, I'm taken out of Practicum because it was frustrating me, and Charles gets me... a dog." He glanced up at her as the puppy finally got into arm's reach, sliding a hand over his side. Soft and stubby. "That's sort of a mixed message, isn't it?"

Heather laughed. It was strange to hear her make that sound, and he looked up, blinking. "Well. Perhaps it is a little. I take it that you like him?" The puppy gave a yappy little sound, wiggling madly and then yapping repeatedly. He bounced a little, and then fumbled his feet again and fell down beside Erik.

It was easy for Erik to herd him towards his lap, carefully petting over his soft fur. "Yes. Yes, I do." So the point was to keep him busy, too busy to get into trouble. Well, he wasn't sure how well it was going to work, but he didn't want pain like that again, didn't want Charles coming all the way from New York because he'd done something stupid. "What were the other things?"

"You and I will be meeting thrice a week for discussion. You'll still be taking most of your regular classes -- sciences, the engineering courses Rodney designed before he left us. Erotic literature will replace Practicum, and once a week there will be a practical course in self-exploration to be observed by a Chaperone. You and I can discuss with whom you would be most comfortable. You will continue with Tai Chi once you're healed well enough to participate." Heather was still smiling, and the puppy was nearly beating him with the frantic wag of his tail.

He rubbed a finger over one soft ear, tipping it upwards idly. "That doesn't sound very bad at all." He'd actually been inclined not to start fights because a week in the hospital and all of that pain, and new stitches and new scars were just. Not worth it.

One day he was going to ask Charles how he thought giving him a puppy was any sort of punishment at all.

One day.

For now, he was just going to be incredibly grateful to have the kind of life where that was true. Where he got erotic lit and masturbation instead of Practicum, even if it was balanced out by meeting with the headmistress three times a week.

"Now. Shall we discuss potty training?"

Then again, maybe it was pretty efficient punishment.

* * *

  
It was time.

Erik had turned sixteen three weeks before the group Presentation, and he had begun demanding to go home the morning he woke on his sixteenth birthday. Every day, twice a day, if not more.

He supposed he would've been disappointed if Erik hadn't been so very eager. Charles was half sure that Erik had packed and possibly moved on to helping other people pile books into boxes as much as he could do without actually lifting them.

It was little wonder that Erik was excited to be going home, because no one would be watching him on closed circuit camera twenty-four hours a day seven days a week, and no one would be watching and accidentally see him stretch his very unique ability. With five or six ounces of decent steel, he probably could have had all the other boys his age packed and moved out in record time.

Charles was just as impatient, truth be told. It was time for Erik to come Home, time for him to be at the school with him. There were things to be considered, however; the Presentation, the fact that he hadn't wanted to have a personal Presentation at the school, not with Scott and Hank remaining through the summer break.

Moira was watching them, but she was going on a speaking tour in Canada as soon as he was back with Erik, which... He wasn't even sure how to explain Erik to Scott and Hank. They knew he was a Benefactor, of course, but he'd kept it low key, not a topic of conversation for so very long that it had fallen off of the radar.

That was how he liked things. The fewer questions any student asked him about his personal life the better things were for Charles. The problem in the end was going to be providing an explanation for the fact that someone younger than some of his students was taking up space in his bed.

Well.

Until he got back to the east coast, he wasn't required to give any sort of explanation. He'd worry about it then and not before. Not when he already had other things about which to worry.

Other, silly, trivial seeming things that were very important to the council. Brands and the traditional opener, and how he and Erik would adjust to one another because it was one thing to read about life with a paralyzed man and quite another to live it. He was adept with catheters and everything else that went with it, but Erik was sixteen.

"Benefactor Xavier, it's good to see you. Punctual as ever." Headmistress Heather looked particularly happy to see him when he rolled into her parlor.

"Punctuality is a virtue or so my mother always claimed. The fact that Erik's birthday was three weeks previous undoubtedly has him proclaiming me late so it's nice to have someone greeting me who's pleased with my timing." He smiled at her. "I'm sure you're delighted to be sending him home with me."

She was all but beaming at him. "Charles, I am delighted that Erik Magnus is going home with a sane Benefactor who is more than capable of handling him. He's spent the last three weeks running Rodney's legs off. Tea, while we wait for Rupert to fetch him? I'm expecting Will's Benefactor sometime in the next hour or so as well."

He was somewhat aware of the rather interesting -- well, pornographic -- content of the letters from Will's Benefactor. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet the man. "Yes, thank you. The ceremony is in six hours. I've brought all of the necessary items."

"I assume you've discussed it all with Erik." Yes, yes and no, but Erik's mind was a very familiar mind. "The cameras in the boy's rooms are going off very soon so they have privacy to prepare for the ceremony. I would suggest making use of that privacy, rather than waiting here in the parlor." With the other Benefactors.

"You're a very kind woman. I suppose the slue of chaperones are all busy seeing to the ceremony. If you'll tell me where to go...." That would be much more enjoyable than spending time with Will's Benefactor, certainly.

"I'll walk you towards the dorms. Erik will probably find us halfway there." She stood, and that was the best solution, the one where he didn't have to sit and drink tea and make niceties with Benefactors whose minds he'd rather not brush up against.

She rose and he followed after her, hands on his wheels. The floors of the hallway were smooth, easy to roll along. "I left the items I brought with your assistant, Mary. The brand is small, as is the opener. Not exactly standard for Benefactor families, I suppose."

"This isn't your council, and very few of these people will ever see you again. Standard is something not to worry about." All the better reason to have him presented in California and not in New York. "I'm going to miss Erik. He's a very introspective young man, and I think one day he's going to have a great deal to contribute to the world."

Charles hoped that would be so. "I didn't want him to be uncomfortable. If there had been a ceremony closer to home, there were so many things that could have gone wrong, really."

Stryker was still, sadly, very much alive, very much involved in the government, and very much a threat. "I understand, Benefactor Xavier." He could hear claws clicking along down the hallway. "And I believe I can hand you over to Erik in a moment."

"Who am I getting handed wh-- _Charles_." And while he'd known he was coming that day, Erik still sounded surprised as he rounded the corner, Rodney the English Pointer roughly at his heels. The difference between thirteen and sixteen was astonishing.

He was taller, for one, taller than Charles. Broad through the shoulders, slim through the hips, and that shock of white hair tumbled in a way that could only have been studiously created. The ripples of desire that worked through him told him exactly why Benefactors were allowed such limited contact with their Companions until they reached this age. "Hello, Erik. And Rodney. I never did ask how the young Mr. Sheppard's Companion felt about the name of your pet."

"Rather angry at first, and then fairly well." Erik was staring at him, taking him in, and then he looked at Heather. "Can I, uh, show Charles my room?"

"Yes. I don't expect to see either of you until just before the presentation begins." She nodded at him, and then turned on her heel, leaving him with Erik and the dog, and Erik's semi-euphoric grin.

"Hello, Erik." The entirety of him seemed to pulse with a sort of joy, one that he hadn't expected to feel. Erik was his Companion, fully ready to Go Home, and there were many things to discuss between them. "Heather thought you might like to show me where you and Rodney have been living." _/As opposed to sipping tea with other Benefactors./_ Will's Benefactor would definitely continue to sit with Heather and her tea set.

While he'd have to meet the man at least casually just before the Presentation, that was where he wanted to draw the line. "Do you want to watch me get ready?" Erik turned, starting down the hallway. "I'm glad the elevator is working today, or I'd have to make a scene."

"Or try lifting it yourself." The cameras were off. No one was near. It was safe. "I hadn't quite realized exactly how thrilling this day would be when it came. I'd love to watch you prepare yourself."

Erik stopped in front of the elevator, and the button lit up without a touch. "I have a new pack of razors just for the occasion. I'm not sure why we're expected to shave." Unless one was being branded on the chest, which Erik wasn't. Charles didn't want Erik branded at all, because all he could think about was Hank's western movies and cattle thieves.

Rodney stood up on his back legs, paws on the left wheel, looking like he was considering jumping onto Charles's lap. "Tchht, don't or I'll put you in the speedo."

The dog dropped back down, chastened, and Charles smiled. "I'll be delighted to assist you so long as the underwear doesn't end up on the dog."

Erik stepped into the elevator, rocking back onto his heels while Charles rolled in. "Shhh, he takes all threats very seriously. Don't tell him I won't follow through."

"I'm delighted he was a good gift for you." Charles turned himself around easily to face the elevator doors while Erik pushed the button for his floor "I was very worried for a time."

"I know." Erik tilted his head a little, and Charles felt something like a wash of heat from Erik. "I still dislike Tai Chi. I still have nightmares. I still want to kill Stryker."

That wasn't unexpected. To be entire honest with himself, he was looking forward to the day Stryker met a mutant who would finish him instead of becoming his next victim. "You don't have to like it, Erik. Just learn from it. And...." He paused as the elevator doors slid open for them. "You aren't alone in the latter."

"I suppose not." He supposed if Erik ever passed Stryker in the street, he'd be dead in seconds, where his students, his X-men, would hesitate.

Well. He had time, time to help Erik learn some restraint, learn something resembling patience. "Which way?"

"End of the hall, straight back. Apparently Heather wanted to be able to get to me relatively fast if I decided to do something stupid." Erik was grinning while he waited for Charles to wheel out, and followed, pulling a key out of his pocket.

Charles smiled. "Yes, well, that does make a certain amount of sense." They paused at the door while Erik keyed it open, and then Charles slid inside after him. "It's quite a nice room, considering you've mostly packed everything for shipping. We have some time before the ceremony."

Shelves were bare, and he suspected drawers were empty as well, all stuffed into boxes. The bed was cleared off, pillows gone, too, but there were still sheets on it, roughly. "Six hours." Six hours for talking and Erik to pull faces at the traditional Companion presentation garb, to discuss or not discuss the brand or the opener.

Or Erik could lean down and put his hands on the lapels of Charles's suit jacket before pressing his mouth against Charles's. It wasn't tentative, nothing like most Benefactors would probably want. Charles wasn't most Benefactors, and so he dropped his head back, and parted his lips to let Erik have his way. There was nothing sweet about Erik, nothing shy about the faint friction of teeth against his bottom lip, about the way Erik tilted his head a little and slipped Charles a little tongue before pulling away. "Five hours to do this."

"Yes." Yes, and to get ready, so there would be time for a shower, time for anything.

Time for everything, if that was what Erik wanted, and Charles reached up, cupped the side of his face, and pulled him back down for another kiss.

Erik's hair was unruly under his fingertips, and his hands were unruly, sliding to try to push his suit jacket off of his shoulders, pulling at tiny plastic buttons on his shirt. The heat of the kisses kept his attention, though, the urgency that wasn't necessary because they had more than five hours, they had years.

 _/I want everything. I want to feel you, I want.../_

"You can have it." It was a solid promise, and Charles reached out, touched him again. "But I suggest we don't do this here. The chair might well tip."

Erik shifted back, just enough to eye the bed. "We can move... though I don't think it's going to tip." And then he felt the chair lurch a tiny bit, drifting off of the carpeted floor with ease. "Metal."

Charles laughed, unable to stop himself. "You are quite something, Erik." _/I'm so grateful that I chose you. You are exactly what I hoped you would be./_

Challenging and powerful and not quite predictable. "Good. Tell me when to stop because this bed doesn't have rails or anything else that's helpful."

"Actually...." He didn't want to slow things down, didn't want to stop Erik at all, however, there were things they needed to discuss. "First, I think we should talk about the ceremony."

"Do we have to?" Erik stopped his wheelchair at a level that was just a few inches off of the floor, but much closer to an easy level to transfer to the bed. Charles could feel the tight fluttering feeling of Erik's nerves, as coherent as a thought. "It's like telling me we need to talk about a pre-planned car wreck. I'd just rather not put a lot of excess thought into it beyond the preparations I know I need to make."

They didn't have to, but they should. Charles transferred himself easily to the bed, moving his legs so that they were more comfortable once he was there. "It's not vitally necessary only I don't want you shocked, upset or angry over things."

Erik set his chair down on the floor gently and looked like he was trying not to grimace when Rodney hopped up on the seat. He set a knee on the mattress, looking at Charles appraisingly. "We have lengthy lectures that the happiest night of our lives involves having an opener shoved into us, and then we're branded. I'm not going to be upset over something I can't change."

Well. That was certainly one way to think of things. Charles was fairly certain Heather had probably addressed the matter on more than one occasion. "All right, then. As you wish."

"Would it make you feel better to talk about it?" Erik's voice tipped towards curious while he was moving forward, putting a hand down beside Charles on the bed to lean over him.

Charles gave a shrug of motion and smiled up at him. "I thought you'd be curious, I suppose. The brand is small compared to those of some Benefactors. I've heard someone in Las Vegas had a pen brand done -- free hand art of a sort, I suppose. I thought about that for you."

"What's the brand look like?" Erik was kneeling over him, and he put a hand on Charles's stomach, just lightly. It made his lips curl, and he tried not to smile overmuch, just in case it made him feel out of place.

"Small. An X inside of a circle. Luckily, the Xavier family has never been partial to large displays. I rather think those who do so are showing their inadequacies to the public."

"And where do you want to put it?" Usually Companions were a beautiful blank canvas, but he was going to be competing with other scars, the marks of surgeries both needed and unnecessary. Erik started to pull at a button, much more calmly than before and much more accurately as well.

Charles reached up and laid a hand on his upper arm. "I was thinking here, or perhaps the other one. It's stupid, putting it on someone's ass or hip or thigh, especially if you want to have conjugal relations with them afterwards."

"I think the idea of that is so it's something only you get to see. I'm not sure." Erik's fingers touched bare skin, rucking up Charles's dress shirt while he slid his fingers over skin that sometimes felt like it was packed with all the missing nerve endings from his lower half.

"There's quite a lot of you that I'll be the only one to see." He said it mildly, despite the fact that every inch of him was trembling, wanting more. There were things they could do, things they might do, things that there'd be hell to pay if they did do. Charles found he didn't particularly care.

"I should undress." Erik shifted, used his other hand to keep unbuttoning buttons. "I've got an iron in here somewhere if we wrinkle you too badly, although naked is a great way not to get wrinkled..."

He felt his breath hitch. "Yes. Well. That is certainly an excellent suggestion." Charles licked his lips. "I do like your forwardness."

"I don't ever want to be away from you again. And while I may be your Companion, you're my Benefactor. I should be forward. You're mine." While Erik couldn't brand him, he could open Charles's shirt and then lean down to kiss his neck.

"That's..." Very nice. Quite possibly even delicious. "Yes. Yes, exactly right. I am yours just as much as you are mine." He always would be, and perhaps that wasn't the point in today's world, but he thought that it might once have been.

It was supposed to be reciprocal, and Companions were a gift to be earned through the sacrifice of service, but there was so much stress on training and submission that perhaps that had been lost. And Erik wasn't as sure in what he was doing as he was projecting he was, but the want for Charles to be his, too, was very sure. Erik pulled back after a moment, moistening his bottom lip. "Good."

If he was someone different, the man he'd been before he'd lost the ability to walk, he would undoubtedly roll Erik ever and they'd have a hell of a nice tumble by way of winning control of the situation. Instead, he let a hand slide across Erik's waist and around to press firmly at the small of his back. "So tell me what you'd like to do here this afternoon."

"Anything." Well, he said anything, but did he mean anything? It was a stark sort of bedroom now that he'd packed it up. It didn't feel like home anymore, and no, Erik didn't really mean 'anything' at all. There was a frisson of satisfaction at being pulled down against Charles, of the feeling of body against body.

"Then I think just this." Just this, his body and Erik's pressed one against the other, and that was very good. Just like that, because anything else would take time, and he wanted to spend that time in a very expensive hotel room with room service. "Just like this."

"Oh." Erik shifted, pulled back enough to pull off his t-shirt and drop it on the mattress, but it was a very halfhearted protest of an 'oh', because he settled back down, sliding an arm over Charles's shoulder, clutching at him while he pressed a kiss where Charles's jaw and neck met. _/Feels like Going Home should./_

 _/Yes./_ Yes, exactly, and Charles turned his head, caught Erik's mouth again, lips against lips, kissing firmly. _/And before tonight, I'll stretch you with my fingers. Touch you, love you make sure you're prepared..../_

There was a wash of half thought out ideas that were past bordering on pornographic, and Erik kept the kiss lingering, fingers almost absently absently clutching at Charles's shoulder. _/That's just what I want./_

That was excellent, and Charles let both of his hands rest on Erik's hips, let them guide him into a rhythm that would feel good to both of them, and at least his shirt was undone. If Erik opened their pants and came on his belly, they'd be able to hide that if necessary. _/Good./_

 _/Can you feel that?/_ Erik shifted, up onto his elbows a little more, and Charles wasn't particularly surprised at the vague feeling that Erik was using his powers, probably doing away with their zippers. Only that wasn't what Erik was asking about.

"Enough." Enough, even if it was a bit of a lie. He knew what Erik was doing, knew how to let him find pleasure. That was all he needed for the time being. There were other things they could have later, when there was time and space for it. Things they'd need to discuss, but for now....

For now, he could enjoy the fact that Erik was all but projecting his thoughts, how good it felt, Charles's hands on his hips, guiding him while he rubbed against Charles. And then the heated feeling rose when he leaned on one elbow, sliding a hand between them to pull himself out of his underwear before pushing Charles's down.

"Yes. Just like that. Just... just like that, Erik." He stroked his hands slowly around to cup Erik's ass, give him a little more encouragement. Not that Erik really needed it, but Charles liked the feeling of Erik's ass under his hands, the muscles shifting, clenching while Erik got just the right angle to rub himself against Charles's dick. The feelings were vivid enough without a more direct connection that he could feel the tight needy feeling settling in his stomach that wasn't quite an orgasm but could at least linger on interestingly for a long time.

They were both breathing quickly, Erik panting, shoving against the hollow of Charles's hip, his face pressed against Charles's throat, and god. God, he had thought about this in private moments in the dark.

None of those thoughts had even come close to the reality.

The feeling of Erik thrusting just a little harder, just a little more desperately, fingers pressing randomly against Charles's stomach and chest because Erik's concentration was shot while he thrust and rubbed and finally gave a ragged choked back noise against Charles's throat because he was coming.

Next time, he was going to be in Erik's mind for it, and next time he'd find a better angle so he could see everything, as much as possible with Erik crowded close against him. Next time, because there would be a next time, and it would be very, very soon. "Yes. Yes, you're beautiful, Erik, just like that. So.... yes." God, yes, and the feel of him, it was more than he'd ever truly thought it would be.

Erik had been an insubstantial voice in his head for a very long time, and now he was very present, stretching a leg a little twitchily, his mouth faint loose pressure against Charles's neck. "If I could get you into the tiny shower stall, I would," he mumbled. It felt like he liked Charles's hands on his ass. "Mmhm."

"I'll make do with a warm damp cloth." It wouldn't be a problem, and he quickly shot a mental image of the shower awaiting them at home -- an area big enough for both of them and perhaps a small basketball team as well, with enough shower heads that it might be a bit obscene.

Still, it was Charles's money and he was allowed to do anything obscene at all if it made his life a little easier. "Once I can move again. In a minute." Erik was sliding a hand over his chest, idly petting. He'd doze off in just a minute, and Charles would let him, would be delighted to hold him while he slept, to be there.

"In a minute," he agreed, pressing his cheek against Erik's. He could feel the drowsiness coming in waves, and he intensified it just a bit, letting sleep come on for him, allowing Erik to doze off lying there atop him. It was a start, and an enjoyable one, at that.

It wasn't a particularly long sleep, just twenty minutes or so, maybe longer. Charles drifted off a little himself, so perhaps it was longer, drowsing and drifting comfortably before Erik sat up in a jolt.

He opened his eyes, smiling. "Hello. Nice nap?" He knew it had been, could feel the relaxation rolling off of Erik. His hand idled down, caressing the curve of his spine.

The way Erik inhaled slowly through his teeth told Charles how much he'd enjoyed the nap, and his hand idling down his back. "Mmmhm, I was going to get you a washcloth. Eventually."

"Perhaps before we stick together?" He couldn't bring himself to care all that much, truth be told. If they stuck together, it wasn't as it would be anything more than a bit uncomfortable.

"I wouldn't call semen a particularly good cement," Erik groused, but he was moving, sliding off of Charles when he clearly didn't want to. He picked up his t-shirt and turned it inside out before mopping up his stomach enough to be presentable. _/I've left my towels in the bathroom. I'll be back./_

He sat up slowly while Erik was busy, rearranging his legs. "I'll be here when you return." Then they could talk if they needed to or simply get ready for the evening. Time passed quickly when it was enjoyable, and the last hour or so had certainly been that.

It was a shame that they wouldn't have the mansion to themselves for the Summer, though Charles was willing to expect the time to still pass quite enjoyably.

Erik came back quickly enough, carrying a hand towel that was damp at one end and dry on the other. "Will's Benefactor has red eyes. Dean just saw him down in the parlor."

Yes. Charles had met him once at the Met. _La Bohème_ had been playing, and they'd only been introduced during the intermission as he and Moira had decided to return to their seats. His mind had been exquisitely structured, and Charles had known without seeking that there were deeply terrifying hidden spaces in there. "My mother used to call eyes like that sherry."

"I'd call eyes like that an ill portent." Erik sat down beside him, sliding the damp part of the towel over Charles's stomach. It felt nice, and he smiled up at Erik. "I don't want to use the communal bathroom to shave." He wanted to stay there where he could keep Charles with him.

"Then don't. I'm assuming the sink in the corner that seems to be lacking in cloths or towels does run warm?"

"Mostly warm," Erik agreed. "And maybe you'd want to help? Or just watch?"

Both possibilities were terribly enticing. "Watch." It was a conscious decision, one he could always change should he find it difficult to keep his hands from touching Erik's skin.

A wicked smile was curling Erik's mouth when he pulled away, stood up and started to unfasten his pants again. "Are you comfortable?"

"Oh, entirely." Comfortable and more than pleased with the idea of what came next. It was perhaps silly, but then, Erik was very young, and he'd been taught, trained even, to believe that this was what one did on this evening of all evenings.

Instruction was something a person couldn't shake off entirely, even as much as Erik usually bucked the smaller things they'd tried to train into him. "It's stupid, but." But everyone would expect it, and while Erik was Erik, he wasn't going to bring shame to Charles.

"You'll be beautiful." One way or another. He was sure that there would be other Benefactors there snickering over his scars, looking at him and seeing things that had gone wrong, wondering why Charles would have him Presented. They'd wonder why he hadn't given him over to service, Chosen a less damaged Companion.

It wasn't that Erik wasn't damaged. He was in a traditional sense of the idea. He had nightmares and a disturbing tendency to obsess, and he wanted to control any situation he was involved in, and he had scars. On the other hand, he had stunning blue eyes, remarkable white hair, all but shouted into Charles's head, and a force of personality even if that personality was damaged. Clearly it had to be because he loved Charles.

Erik slipped his pants down, toeing off his sneakers at the same time. "Well. What would you prefer?"

"What are you using?" Charles was curious. He'd been to Presentations before, and it was amazing how well-groomed the Companions were, in a way that was at least slightly disturbing to see.

Erik eased his underwear down, and left in on the pile on the floor, standing there for a moment with his hands on his hips. "Conditioner, actually."

He allowed his eyes to linger, roaming from the soles of Erik's feet up, until he caught that bright gaze. He didn't look anything remotely like embarrassed. "Then I say shave whatever leaves you most comfortable."

Erik looked inclined to do just that. "Then I'll run some water in the sink and get started."

Started, indeed, and silence reigned from the second that Erik began to run water. Charles was fascinated, and he leaned forward, watching as Erik used the cloth he'd brought back from the bathroom, dipping it into the stream and bringing it out to run it over his chest, rivulets washing down from the cloth.

He liked the view, droplets taking the path of least resistance, narrow steaks of water sliding down to Erik's crotch. He kept that hair trimmed, trimmed very tight, but it wasn't shaved. Not yet. Shaved was a different sort of look. Erik started slathering hair conditioner over his chest, still peeking sideways at Charles.

"You know, is there some protocol regarding what's to be shaved?" Perhaps he should have asked that question earlier.

"Genitals, armpits and chest are the only declared ones. Most everyone does everything." Legs, ass and anything else there was. It felt a little bit like overkill, and Erik's hair was pale, not particularly visible on his legs. He picked up the razor, and after peering at his slathering up, Erik started to meticulously shave it off, careful of the slightly puckered scar that split his chest in half.

"I think perhaps you should stop some of that when we're home. It seems a little much considering how blond your hair is." Plus Charles had chosen a male Companion. Part of that choice was, in particular, that masculine traits were pleasing to him. Having Erik shave his legs seemed excessive.

"Oh, thank god." That particular grumble made Charles almost want to laugh out loud just from the heartfelt emotion of the sentiment. "I can think of a long list of things I'd rather be doing with my time than shaving my legs."

"There are a great number of things I'd rather watch you do." And then some, but Erik was beginning to drag the razor gently further down, and Charles was fascinated by every motion as it crept lower. That had to be uncomfortable when it grew in again, so he asked, "Why are you shaving with conditioner?"

"It works better than shaving creme," Erik shrugged. "Less pain, less likelihood of scraping off a layer of skin. Less razor burn."

Charles's gaze never faltered. Erik was touching himself now, and oh. Yes. That was quite lovely, so much so that his mouth went a little dry at the sight, at the thought of the private lessons that had replaced Practicum. "Mmm." He slathered conditioner around his cock, and looked straight at Charles while he made the first swipe around the base with the razor. He never faltered, and Charles could feel desire welling up in him, riding in his belly, patient and real and waiting.

Somehow, he managed coherent speech. "That's really quite lovely, Erik."

"I hope you like it. I hope that you like all of it." He liked the way that Erik tidied up after those first few strokes, and then moved his hand back and tilted his hips a little to start the rest, to shave his balls.

If Erik didn't have that affinity for metal, he'd worry more about it, about the possibility that he'd cut himself. As it was, he could just enjoy it, eye the way his fingers touched, how hard he was. "Oh, I like it. Very much."

He wasn't sure, now that Erik could control himself, that someone could actually cut him against his will again. It was something that Charles hoped he never found out, but he always remembered how Erik's IVs fell out. Repeatedly. "How much time do we have?"

A glance at Charles's watch took him away from his private show for far too long. "Another forty-five minutes before I need to go back downstairs."

"Damn." Erik was finishing up, though, even if it was slowly, and he'd need to wipe the conditioner off of his skin, oil himself up appropriately, and put on that tiny thong that hid nothing at all.

Charles wondered why they even bothered with them except the psychological effect of baring oneself, the show of willingness to be breached, had to be deep-rooted in the original reason for it. He didn't want Erik to do that, didn't want people looking at him and believing him inferior, but he knew that it was required. He thought Erik wouldn't be intimidated by it at all.

He watched Erik finish, and then quickly tidy out his armpits before he put the razor aside. The hand towel went partially into the sink, and Erik took his time wetly wiping away the conditioner.

"Dear God, that was enticing." Might as well say as much. Erik deserved that, deserved the words, because it was true.

Erik left the razor in the sink, and the towel on the edge. "Good. I want to entice you. I want..." A lot, a jumble of things he wanted, from quiet comfort like that nap to desperate need-it-now sort of sex. But with the time limit, Erik seemed content to lean into Charles completely naked and kiss him.

It was hot, was teasing, was so good, and Charles laid his hands on him, stroking slowly over damp skin. "Mmmm. I want..." Wanted to pry him open, loosen him so that it wasn't so bad later.

He could feel one of the muscles in Erik's leg shiver, trembling enough that Charles could feel it in his hand. "What?"

"To touch you. To tease you, to open you with my fingers and feel you clench around them, to..." To do everything. All of the things that he wanted to do, that they both should have. He wanted to nail Erik against the wall, and they couldn't do that.

He wouldn't be able to feel it, no matter what they did, but he'd at least be able to see it. They were going to have to work that out, all of it, talk it through, but for the moment Erik was groaning. "Let me find something. And we can, I want that."

"I, ah..." He wasn't embarrassed, but still. "If you check the pocket of my pants, you'll find a packet. I think that might facilitate things a bit more than anything you haven't yet packed."

"Probably. We're not allowed anything particularly for that." Erik stayed where he was, and reached into Charles's pocket to pull out a little tube to offer to him.

"Come closer." Charles shifted, pushed himself further back on the bed, just a little. "Would you rather stand, or...?"

"Or I could stretch out." Lengthwise, across his lap, and Erik was already moving, stretching out on his belly and presenting his ass.

His hands shook, trembling as he reached out, stroked his fingers over the left cheek slowly, seeking the crease with easy, gentle sweeping motions. "Yes. You could certainly do that. In fact, I do think I will very much enjoy this. I hope you will."

Erik's voice hitched a little, and he stretched his arms out in front of him, in reaction to that slow slide of dry finger against the crease. If he hadn't been injured... "I think I'm going to."

"Mmmm." Yes, very much yes, and he twisted open the tube with thumb and forefinger, and then tilted it, letting slick lube work its way between his cheeks until his fingers were drenched. It made it easier to rub one slippery fingertip deeper, deeper, listening to the little sounds Erik made.

It was a completely new sensation for Erik, and Charles opened his mind to it a little, to Erik's body squirming almost against his will, against Charles's legs and then back to his fingertip, liking it and not liking it at the same time, and wanting more, wanting to feel everything. "Just relax. Just let me." Easy and slow, and he pushed a little more with each steady sweep of his finger until he breached Erik gently.

Slow and smooth, easy, and he was glad he'd very carefully clipped his fingernails. Erik stretched out one leg, spread his cheeks open a little further and sighed. "Relaxing, trying to..."

"Push out, just a little." Just a little, and oh. Yes. Like that, and his fingertip slid in to the first joint. Erik gave a sound, a delicious noise that reverberated through him. "Oh, yes, Yes. There."

"That's..." Stretching and burning, just a little, but it was a new sensation that Erik was definitely in line with because his dick was hard again. "Mmm."

"Different." Yes, different, and Erik was rocking back to it, pushing forward so that his cock rubbed steadily against Charles's thigh, a slow, steady cadence. He pulled his finger back, then pushed it in a little more deeply, again, again, again. God, yes.

Just slow, and just one finger when he wanted to fuck Erik into the mattress, but he liked it. Charles wasn't sure what he would've done if Erik had decided no, not really in the scale of what he liked. "More."

More, and he gave it to him -- one finger, sliding it deep, searching, seeking. "Yes. More." More, but they'd have to talk about that. The time wasn't here just yet. When they got home, there would be plenty of time to talk. For now there was just this, and slowly slipping in another finger.

He was biting his bottom lip, quiet groans sliding through Erik when Charles finally found his prostate, rubbed a finger over it just to feel Erik buck. It was a damn good feeling, making him do that, so he rubbed again, teasing. "The opener is smooth. Not very wide, just wide enough to be felt if it's wielded gently. It will slip into you easily, slide back out. I think you'll rather like that, later."

"Not one of those chandelier things." Erik sounded faintly relieved, twisting a little, looking back, and that got another groan from Erik, looking over his shoulder, and just seeing Charles's hands on him, in him. "Fuck."

Fuck, and he'd bet that wasn't a word most Companions were allowed to taste. "Yes. Just exactly that." He slipped his second finger in more deeply, slowly, until he was stroking in and out of him easily, letting Erik rock into him. "Do you want to come again?"

"Yes...." He was sixteen, of course he did. If he was allowed to, he might try for three or four times in one day. Erik leaned back down and canted his hips up to Charles's two fingers again. "Please. Please, Charles."

Please, and he slipped them in deep, deep enough that he could keep stroking, teasing, opening him up just a little more, his hand pressed firmly in the crack of Erik's ass, fingers split wide. _/Now, Erik. Now, if you want to./_

The connection was easy to keep, easy to hold onto while he fucked his Companion's ass with his fingers, while Erik pressed back up to meet him, hard and fast and rubbing against Charles's pants until he was coming on him, and he felt Erik's vision slide sideways while the pleasure hit him, a blur of color arcing through the air in wild waves while a sensation that matched it slid up his spine.

Dear God, that had been enjoyable in ways that Charles hadn't even truly expected. He slid his fingers out slowly, gently, his clean hand stroking Erik's back. "I hope that was as enjoyable for you as it was for me." He wasn't sure Erik retained the mental functions to reply just yet.

He mostly wasn't shocked when Erik exhaled, still partially chewing on his bottom lip. "Ffft, yeah." Yeah, but with a wave of emotion that was warm and sated, and he wasn't moving yet. They had time, and Charles was all right with the idea of him lying there for a little while longer.

Idling his hands over Erik was enjoyable, not at all disturbing. Carson had spoken with him about his own experience, and that had left something of a bad taste in his mouth. He was grateful not to have that kind of problem facing him.

Erik's link with Will wasn't anything at all like Rodney and John's had been. Erik was focused solely on Charles, and Charles expected the most problems to come when he actually got home. The students at the school were going to be far more problematic when he introduced Erik to them. Legally he was an adult after tonight, a Companion, a person with certain lawful rights. Some of the children were older than Erik and still not invested with those rights.

He could only imagine the chaos that would cause, but he'd have to deal with that when the time came. For now, he idly stroked his hands over Erik and enjoyed the moment.

Smooth muscles, and unwavering trust in Charles that he was going to have to work hard not to mar accidentally. After another few moments, Erik shifted a little, thighs flexing smoothly while he sat back and off of Charles's lap.

"Come." It was an invitation. "Kiss me, and we'll mop up. You're probably expected a few moments early." And he would still have to go to the front parlor and sit with Will's Benefactor for a time.

Erik leaned into him, and god he was going to be tall when he stopped growing. He was already tall, leaning down to kiss Charles while he knelt on the mattress. It would be good between them. It would be what he'd dreamed of, what they'd both dreamed of, and he'd do his best to make sure of it.

They only had to get through the evening, and then they could go home.

* * *

  
The Presentation had been annoying and embarrassing and Erik was likely never going to see anyone in that room again, so he didn't care too much. He'd taken the branding without flinching, and on the heels of having the opener precisely pushed in and then pulled out of his ass it had hardly set in as pain at the time. It was bothering him now, madly, but there was a bandage over it and he'd been doing too much resting. A lot of resting. Sleeping through the night with Charles had been very nice, even if they'd almost missed their flight back to New York. He liked the physicality, that he was allowed to do that now. He was Erik Magnus, Charles's Companion, and he could sleep in his bed and get away with any kind of touching he liked.

"Let me get the bags out of the trunk."

Charles nodded, and the driver who'd brought them from the airport parked the car. "Go ahead. I'll be right behind you." Once the driver had his chair out, undoubtedly, and then they'd go in. Erik could feel that he'd be glad to have his own chair again instead of the one he'd been using.

Erik wanted to see what his normal chair looked like, wanted to fix it better, too, because the traveling chair was crap. Everything Charles had to do to compensate for his injury was crap, too, except it was a necessary crap that... well, it was part of his life, too, and if Charles thought he could get away with chivalry and not let Erik in on it, he was sorely mistaken. Because for starters, he was sure that while Charles's dick responded quite well to touch, it wasn't actually communicating with Charles's brain.

He carefully hefted his bags, and the rolling bag Charles had traveled with, and waited with Rodney leaning a wet nose against his pant leg like he'd never ever seen a car before, tail wagging fearfully. The whole thing had been stressful for Rodney, and he suspected his dog was going to be happy to hide under a bed as soon as possible.

Charles was strong, his upper body firmly muscled from moving his entire body using only his arms. It was nice to be pressed against him, and even nicer to imagine what he looked like under his clothing when he began pushing the chair towards the front door. "I hope you'll like it here. It's my family home, and while there have been unhappy days in these walls, I greatly hope that they will continue to be outnumbered by better ones."

"I'm glad to be home with you." And he knew how much the house, the grounds around it, meant to Charles. He'd known it when he was little, and it was why he'd been insistent that Charles go back to New York. Well, and take Erik with him, but. The sentiment was still there.

"I as well. There will undoubtedly be difficulties...." The implication lay unspoken -- students, Dr. MacTaggert, possibly the school board. Erik just knew that there had been something between her and Charles, and a vague seething jealousy had to be swallowed every time he thought of it. "....but I believe everything will work out for the best."

Erik tilted his eyes towards the place -- huge, sprawling looking mansion, the wide grounds that surrounded it. Well, it was just as well Charles was running a school in it. It was a little big for just two people. Or just twenty people. "Do they know much about me?" He asked it curiously, following Charles at his own pace. Heather had discussed his particular situation quite a lot in their therapy sessions, things to be mindful of, things to look out for, things not to do. Mostly, it all came down to treating Charles like he was healthy and uninjured, and the fact that she'd felt it was necessary to go on and on about it had been stupid.

"Some. The school board has proven occasionally leery regarding my status as a Benefactor. For the most part, I've been very quiet about the fact that I'm a Benefactor. I've preferred to keep them out of our lives and our business." Charles came to rest at the door and reached out, turning the knob and pushing it inward on silent hinges. "Now that you're home, we'll see how that will affect us."

"You still want to be very quiet about it, don't you?" He could feel it, that Charles wanted to continue living his low key, very devoted to the school life, and he wasn't surprised when Charles rolled into the foyer and came to a stop, turning to look at him.

"It's who we are that's important, Erik. Not what you are. Not what I am. I think that people often lose sight of what being a Benefactor or a Companion truly is. I prefer our privacy."

Erik had mostly expected that kind of answer.

Rodney had pulled his leash out to the limit, and was snuffling curiously at a side table, and Erik was half tempted to do the same, to explore, but it could wait. "All right. I think it might be best if you tell me now, or soon, what..." Damn, it wasn't a particularly easy concept to phrase out in a way that Charles couldn't take the wrong way, and possibly reaching out to Charles's mind instead of talking was a crutch, but it was a very effective crutch, because then he could show words and emotions and it was so much simpler.

 _/What I can do, and where?/_ Kissing at breakfast, or just keeping it to Charles's rooms, or was the limit not-when-students-around?

Charles smiled at him. "Come. Let's settle into our rooms and I'll ask Miss Anna to bring something for brunch. You'll like her, Erik. She's an excellent cook and a very nice person." _/We'll talk about it over breakfast./_

"Professor? I thought I heard you come in. Was it a good flight?" Erik craned his head, looking down the opposite hallway, while a young man who was probably his age came down it. The jeans and polo shirt seemed normal, though the metal band he was wearing over his eyes was not.

"It was a flight. I'm not sure there's such a thing as a good commercial flight, Scott." Charles smiled up at him. "Erik, I'd like to introduce you to Scott Summers. Scott, meet my Companion, Erik Magnus."

He could feel the way that those eyes wandered over him despite the red lenses that hid his gaze. "Huh."

'Huh' was a strange reaction, but Erik wasn't used to meeting normal people. Not that Scott was normal by general definitions. "Scott, good to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"Funny." Scott tilted his head. "We haven't heard all that much about you."

 _/It isn't because I'm not proud of you. I promise that./_ "Yes, well. I confess that I preferred keeping Erik to myself. Some things are part of one's private life, after all."

Yes, well. It still stung a little, and Erik was trying not to react the way he wanted to. "So you're going to be living here now?"

"Yes. I'm finally home." Rodney pulled forward a little, and Erik let him, to snuffle at Scott's shoes.

The other young man nodded seriously, looking at the dog. "It's nice to meet you, then. Hank's in the library." That seemed more for Charles than anything else. "He decided to read his way through Shakespeare while you were gone."

 _/You'll like Hank. He's very bright./_ "There are worse things to read, I suppose."

Scott snorted. "Yeah, like those romance novels Jean doesn't admit to having squirreled away. Anyway. I'll go tell him you're home."

Then he was headed back down the hallway. Well, Erik could just tell Scott was going to be easy to get along with in a sort of not at all way and that was probably a good example of how it was going to go. He turned away, glancing at Charles. "So, rooms?"

"Rooms," Charles agreed, and began to roll himself forward. Erik could feel how pleased he was to show him this, how he was grateful to be home, and he hoped he'd be able to feel that way about the denizens of the house one day.

If he hadn't been been carrying duffle bags and Charles's rolling bag and Rodney's leash, he would've hugged his Benefactor from behind because it was good to be home. _/It's going to be fine./_

"Yes. It will be. Everything will be, and so I want you to relax. I want you to enjoy it here, and to be comfortable living with me. You'll likely need some time to accustom yourself to living with the students, but..." He tossed a glance at Erik that seemed almost apologetic. "You're their age, and younger than some. And your role here will be very different. Everyone will have to become accustomed to you as well as you to them."

"I think that's going to be harder than being comfortable living with you." His singular focus since he was little had been Charles, and not so much the School, though he did understand how much it meant.

Charles wanted to protect children like him, like them, from the things that had happened to Erik. He didn't want that to happen to anyone again, and he was working very hard to be sure that it didn't. "Yes, well. I suspect as much, as well. Plus, I want you to continue your education, which means that I will be searching for new teachers who will hopefully be able to teach you as well as some of the other...." Children was on the tip of his tongue, Erik knew it. "...students."

"It might be better if I weren't a student here." Erik watched Charles stop in front of a door, and he pushed it open for him. "The school board will give you fewer funny looks."

"Thank you. I know that you're interested in pursuing higher education though, Erik. Engineering. Other sciences. If I don't do that here, you'll need to go back to California and I know that you don't want to do that."

There was another chair just inside the room -- much nicer, heavier, the wheels not multi-spoked but supported instead by an X, sturdy and wide. The seat was wider, the arms stronger, and Erik approved of it entirely.

He'd still want to tweak it, here and there, but that was better. The room itself was leather chairs and old wood, an inherited room that Charles felt natural to Erik in. "I could take classes at the Renssel."

Charles smiled up at him. "They only take students to sixteen, Erik. All Companions receiving advanced education are sent to California." _/And I never want you in those halls again. I don't trust them, even if Richard is in control again./_ He had been since not long after Erik went to California.

"Well." He set down the bags, and watched Rodney wander the length of his leash. "There are normal colleges around here or so I've heard."

"Quite a few." The reluctance Charles felt about them was something Erik could feel in his bones. "We'll check them all and discuss the possibilities. Will that suit?"

"Yes. I don't want to cause you any problems, and I imagine if you were sharing a bedroom with someone who was also a member of the student body...." He rolled his shoulders, and he needed to relax because he was home. He was home and he couldn't relax until Charles relaxed.

Charles rolled away, and laid a hand on a button that must be the intercom. "Anna. Are you in the kitchen?"

It took a moment, but a woman's voice came back, easily heard. _~"Welcome home, Professor. Is there something you need?"~_

He pressed the button again. "Brunch for two, if you wouldn't mind? We left incredibly late, and you know how airport food can be."

Anna laughed, and agreed, and so Charles thanked her, then rolled towards his real chair and the hassock that was settled just so. "The thing about your education is that eventually I want to offer higher level courses to all the students. There are very few colleges and universities willing to take on Companions because they're expected to maintain protective services for them as well."

Erik leaned down, unhooked Rodney's leash to let him wander. He was a good dog, so he wasn't really worried about property damage. "Yes, and that's... eventually. I know you want me to be safe. You want me to be safe. But I can't be your student, or this is just... going to work weirdly, Charles. I'm your Companion, not your student."

Otherwise, he'd come to look at Erik the way he looked at Scott, and he was never going to allow that. No matter what.

"Erik...."

"No."

No, because he wasn't going to be Charles's student. He wasn't.

Charles closed his eyes and sighed. "I'll.... talk to Richard."

He closed the space between them, leaned in to kiss him. "Thank you."

Erik wasn't going to become Rodney, the actual Rodney, and his weird relationship with Carson. He wasn't Charles's son or his student or going to allow himself slide into one of those easier roles. He hadn't spent twelve years of his life learning how to deal with Charles, learning etiquette, learning to pour damned tea all so that he could be something other than Charles's Companion.

Charles sighed and reached up to cup the back of Erik's neck, leaving their foreheads pressed together. "I'll worry every second."

He slid his arms around Charles's shoulders, tightly. "I'd be angry if you didn't worry, but I want to grow old with you, not grow up with you."

That seemed to be exactly what he needed to hear, and Charles kissed him again, all soft lips and gentle touches. "And I want the same. Just..."

"Just?" He shifted, put a knee down on the space between Charles's legs, taking what closeness he could.

"Just I want more than anything that you be safe. I know that I can keep you safe if you're here. Will you always be so demanding when you think it's best for us? For you and me?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" It was how he functioned, how he thought. How Charles had let him learn how to think. "I love you. And I'll be an asshole about it if I have to be."

The way that Charles smiled back at him allowed him to relax, at least a little. "Then I will always keep that in mind, Erik."

"Good." Because it didn't matter how safe he was, if he wasn't able.to enjoy his life with Charles. Things were already going to be awkward, he could tell. There was no reason to make it moreso by attending classes there at the school. "I won't try to draw undue attention to myself."

Something in Charles softened. "Everyone will meet you, and they'll know you're here. They'll know who we are. I hope that will be enough, Erik. Will it?"

It was strange, seeing that facial expression shift rather than just feeling it, guessing at it. "I think it will be." Every Companion was different, after all, and while they could guess at what type they'd be when they left the school, there was no telling until they Went Home. Erik had always supposed he'd be the sort who didn't care much about the system. Never had, but it was hard to shake the things that had been ingrained in him.

He'd manage. It was much easier to lean into Charles and kiss him again. "I should walk Rodney."

One hand slid warmly against his waist and then Charles sighed and nodded. "I'm sure you should. I'll be in the study when you get back, most likely."

There were things Charles needed to tend to, and... yes. Paperwork and things, even with the students not all there. Erik didn't move yet, just enjoying the lingering hand. "I'm not going to let you skirt that issue forever, either." If just because the want, the intent was there. He needed to work out exactly what was in the realm of possibility beyond handjobs and fingerfucking.

Erik made sure to think that last thought particularly loudly. The look on Charles's face was worth the effort to his way of thinking. "I'll see you in the study, then."

"After you return." It was enough of a promise for him to smile in response. "And brunch then, as well. Then we can... settle in more happily."

Quietly was the implication. Just the two of them, and Rodney probably dozing in the corner. After all that time lost to the hassles of travel, Erik wanted that. He gave half a wave as he left, shutting the door behind him only once he was sure Rodney had followed. Hell, the dog'd probably keep him from having time to start fights here, as well. Maybe.

"Tcht. C'mon."

Rodney came to heel, tail wagging madly as he nudged against Erik's knees. Charles seemed so pleased with himself, with Erik, and the emotional wash of that was wonderful as Erik clipped on Rodney's leash and they set out for the front door.

If nothing else, he was sure he could survive on the emotional and sensation flow alone.  
Erik shut the door behind himself, and stood on the wide stairs beside the wheelchair ramp, looking out over the wide rambling grounds. It felt nicely secure, off the beaten path for such a monumental building.

He let Rodney off of his leash and watched h run joyfully through the yard, alternately sniffing and raising his leg to pee. It left him feeling mellow a little, as if something that simple was a sign that they were settling in. Maybe it was.

"So." That voice didn't surprise him, truthfully. The fact that Scott was alone when he turned around did. "You're the professor's Companion."

"Yes." Erik slipped his hands into his pants pockets, watching Scott's... not his face, or his eyes, but his visor, he supposed. Mouth movements would have to pass for facial expressions.

The faintly sarcastic tweak of his lips put Erik on edge. "It's just kind of weird, I guess. I mean, I'm older than you, and I'm... still a student here. There are probably a lot of people who'll find it kind of strange."

"Says the boy with the band over his eyes." Erik tilted his head, watching Rodney for a moment, rather than Scott's smirk. "I'm his Companion. Doesn't matter that you're older than me. I've known him longer." And nothing but Charles for a large part of his life. What they had... it was just their lives. The realization that he'd never known anyone who wasn't Companion-bred, or like Dr. Beckett, was just the way things were.

Scott shrugged. "I'm just saying. So... are you like us?"

"I suppose I am. I'm not very good at it, but I can feel it all the time." And he finally had a place to stretch his wings and try whatever he wanted to try. It tinged the mellow with excitement.

The other boy didn't seem to be anything other than mildly curious. They both stood for a couple of minutes until Rodney finally seemed satisfied that he'd pissed on everything that needed pissing and came back to Erik, tail wagging. "There are a lot of younger kids here," Scott said finally. "They'll probably like your dog a little too much."

"That's okay. Rodney's used to being mauled by little kids, huh?" He crouched down, scruffing behind Rodney's ears. "He won't bite." Less likely to do it than his owner. The urge was there to reach out, find the metal he could hear and feel and pull it to him, but he didn't. He supposed Scott needed his visor.

For some reason. No matter how dorky it looked.

"So, you want me to show you the sights? It's not like I've got anything better to do."

"Sure." Not that Erik thought there was going to be much by way of sights, but Charles had always seemed so attached to the place. It was why he'd never expected Charles to spend quite so much time lingering on the West coast. He got Rodney closer, to heel, and waited for Scott to lead the way.

"We'll hit the library first. You look like the kind of guy who'd appreciate a good library, and Hank's in there." Great. Meeting someone else, but he could at least cut it short if he needed to and head to Charles's study for brunch.

"And what do you appreciate about it?" He'd promised he was going to try to get along with the other students, to make Charles's life easier in that respect. It was a promise made to himself, at least, and Erik was usually very good about keeping those.

Scott tossed him a grin. "Are you kidding? The girls."

"...In the library?" Erik looked sideways at him as they walked, and had to stop to haul open one heavy wooden door to get back into the mansion. Rodney danced around and then slipped through ahead of them, tail wagging furiously.

"Not until everybody gets back from the break. Two weeks of awkward family time or a trip to D.C. with Professor Frost and Professor Cassidy for the ones who aren't welcome at home. You know, see the political process in action, plus a lot of museums. Hank's not good at going out and I didn't want to go, so it's just us. Hey, Hank!" he yelled, glancing upwards. "Come meet the professor's Companion!"

Up. Up and up. Erik tilted his head back, and startled to see a boy hanging from the rafter with a book in hand, glasses perched perilously on his nose. He was furry and blue. Dean would've shit himself with excitement, right there.

Hank peered down at them, and dropped his book. Erik almost tried to grab it, but somehow the other boy moved and flipped and he was crouched down with it in his hand seconds later.

Huh.

"Erik, this is Hank McCoy. Hank, meet Erik. I told you about him earlier."

"Good to meet you." He supposed the companion part had been brought out already, but. Hank was _blue_ , and it was just fantastic. Erik stuck his hand out in greeting.

There was no denying the open suspicion he saw in those golden eyes, but Erik was familiar with distrust and it would be fine. When Hank finally reached out, even his nails were blue. Wonderful! "Nice to meet you, too."

Scott shrugged and leaned back against a shelf. "I'm pretty sure he knew what he was getting into when he came here, Hank, so you don't have to worry that much."

He almost wanted to show what he could do, why it was all right, but he wasn't used to showing and he knew more than they would probably be comfortable with him knowing. "You don't have to worry at all."

Hank didn't seem like the sort of fellow who was all that interested in the social niceties. Maybe it was all the blue fur. "You'll forgive me if I keep worrying all the same, I hope."

"When I was ten, the government took me from the companion school and cut me apart. Because I can do this." Erik reached out, and just lightly floated Hank's glasses off of his face, into his hand. And just held it there. "You don't have to worry about me."

That seemed to change things, although he registered shock and surprise and a bit of curiosity. Hopefully neither of them would ask any questions that he didn't want to answer.

"So... what, you're telekinetic?" Scott asked, clearly curious.

"I manipulate metal." The device holding his sternum together complicated things for him, added an extra pull he didn't think his body really wanted there. "But if I twisted these out of shape, I don't think Hank'd be too pleased."

"No," Hank agreed, reaching for them. He allowed that, and watched Hank return them to his face. "It wouldn't please me at all."

"So." Erik cleared his throat. "I'm not going to be a student here, though. I don't think it would suit." Him or Charles or either of the students he was standing with in the library.

Scott nodded slowly. "Yeah. I can see where that would lead to problems all around. So. What's the plan here, exactly? Maybe it's not any of our business, but..."

"But the satisfaction of an answer would be quite nice."

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'plan'?" After all, there wasn't one. He was going to finish his education, and then help as best he could at the school. And put Charles first, as no one else seemed to.

Hank glanced at Scott and his fur ruffled slightly. "You're different than the other students, but you'll be here. It just seems... strange."

"Yes, well. I'm Charles's companion. I'll live here, finish my higher education elsewhere, probably teach here eventually." While male Companions could, did work, it was something Erik had been told was still frowned on given the potential presence of other Benefactors almost everywhere. Never mind the possibility that they'd decide to run off with someone else, which Erik believed to be a ridiculous sort of excuse. Even Will wouldn't run away from his Benefactor, and he was clearly crazy.

Scott seemed satisfied with the explanation and nodded his head slowly, red plastic banana clip and all. "That sounds cool. we just figure it's better to know ahead of time. There'll be a lot of questions when everybody gets back."

"And knowledge is power," Hank added.

"Yes, well. My personal life has very little power involved." Erik felt his way around the room, sensing the ladders and braces in the bookshelves, the wiring and the pipes underneath. To just expand and feel was such a good feeling, all of the metal humming in his veins.

That seemed to satisfy Hank, at least, because he nodded and wandered off, book still in hand. It was interesting to watch him move, and Erik wondered how many others there were like him. Like them.

"So, I'm guessing you don't want the full tour, huh?" Scott asked, leaning back against a bookshelf. "Just at a guess."

"No, I should probably..." Erik cleared his throat, and snapped his fingers before patting on his hip to call Rodney over to him. "Go. Leave you two to do whatever you were doing before."

Scott nodded and gave him a wave, glancing down at the dog. "See you later, then, I guess."

"Around, yeah. Don't worry. I don't think things will change much." He looked over towards where Hank had gone, and gave a slight wave of his hand before he left.

The place was huge, and it sort of echoed as Erik and Rodney made their way through the halls. He could feel -- hear, maybe? Some sort of psychic signal? -- Charles up ahead and so he followed that feeling, finding himself standing in the doorway of a large room with a desk and a multitude of sitting arrangements. A table near the doors leading out to some kind of balcony held what looked like brunch, and his stomach rumbled.

Charles looked up from the papers he was working on and smiled. "I see Rodney's enjoying himself."

That was very true. Rodney sniffed at everything, and hadn't peed on anything in the house, which was nice. "Mmhm. I talked with Scott and Hank briefly." He didn't have anything in common with them, and that was in some ways comforting.

"And did you enjoy meeting them?" Charles leaned back and then began to roll in his direction.

"They seem nice enough." He rolled his shoulders a little, watching Charles. He was glad he hadn't been very excited about meeting the students, because it kept the overall awkwardness of actually meeting them very low.

He seemed to understand that, because he nodded and then tilted his head towards the table. "Shall we?"

It was almost a relief to settle in with Charles. "Please, thank you."

They'd have breakfast, and then maybe they'd talk, or at least maybe they'd go back to their rooms. Either way, Erik could be patient.

* * *

  
Erik had no patience at all.

It was something Charles was accustoming himself to, having managed to last a full two days before Erik had declared himself done with actual propriety and devoted only to the sense of pretending to have it. Which was why he was kneeling over Charles's hips in bed, with only the corner lamp on. "Don't give me that look. As my Benefactor, we should've done this fifteen or twenty times already." In the last three days, of course.

"The thing of it is, Erik...." They still hadn't talked about it. It wasn't a lack of interest, god above, no, it was just that Charles's erections were mostly involuntary and there was a disconnect between his brain and his dick that could be disconcerting.

"The thing of it is that you're mistreating yourself by ignoring the fact that you still have wants," Erik countered. "So, it doesn't work the way it did before. Help me work out how it does work." He placed a hand on Charles's stomach against bare skin where he'd unbuttoned his pajamas. Sleeping nude wasn't really an option with the school.

Charles could feel the desire in him, the awareness of what this would mean, the sheer determination of him. There was no way he would win this argument, he realized, so it was probably best that he just give in. "All right, Erik." It wasn't as if it was a sacrifice on his part, because he did want to have the sort of relationship they were supposed to have.

"Good. Don't make me get out the creativity in sex books I had." He watched Erik making some kind of motion between Charles's legs, watching his face with an intense expression. "Nothing. Where does it... stop?"

Raising a hand, he stroked it down Erik's side. "Oh, a bit below my navel. The enjoyment isn't necessarily negligible, Erik. After all, there's certainly a great deal of delight in bringing you to pleasure."

He'd told Erik that back at the school, and he'd gotten the same sort of level 'mmhm' look at the time as he was getting now, while Erik leaned forwards and kissed the middle of his chest. "So, you can feel this, though."

The laugh that snuck out was in no way meant badly, only Erik's determination made him sincerely happy. "Yes," he agreed, stroking his hands over Erik's skin. "Yes, I can."

"Mmhm, then..." He let his hands idle down, slow stroking while he watched Charles's face. "All that time learning how to give a great blowjob, and I'll never move past theory."

"Well," Charles hedged with a smile, "that's not to say it wouldn't be a lovely prelude all the same. And besides," he continued as his hands began to stroke Erik's thighs. "You could always share some of the finer points of your instruction."

"But at some point, you've actually done it," Erik pointed out, "While I've fellated bananas. Vastly different." And lower in potassium, was the other fleeting thought he caught, and tried not to smile too much. Erik seemed to feel the brush against his mind, and latched onto it.

 _~Or, there's this.~_

God. The eroticism of telepathy was one of the few true advantages, he sometimes fancied, and he was particularly of that belief as Erik spilled a few incredibly interesting thoughts into Charles's head. It made him shudder, that feeling more intense than actual erections. "Dear God."

Erik gave a quiet laugh, squirming in his position on top of Charles. "We could do it that way, then?" All or mostly telepathic, that could be interesting, and Erik wasn't afraid. That was the best part. Young, yes, but so wonderfully fearless, and not so young in his mind at all. Perhaps it was trauma, perhaps only conspiring events, but Erik had a much older mind, and Charles could greatly appreciate that, the disconnect between his Companion and his students.

"That seems to be an excellent suggestion." He let his hands idle down to Erik's hips, fingers curling slowly over his ass cheeks, felt Erik sigh and slouch down a little, resting on his elbows as he started to focus.

Slipping out onto the astral plane, where Charles could find him and do anything he liked with him in that space, anything at all.

It was different there; _he_ was different there, able to move as he liked, feel as he liked, and finding Erik was ridiculously easy. He was patiently waiting, as if they had all the time in the world. Maybe they did, and that was a nice thought.

 _/Erik. Come closer./_

 _/This feels strange./_ But in an interesting way for Erik. He did approach Charles, and his manifestation was brilliant -- adult, fully adult, no scars, relaxed. He supposed he would've been worried if the scars had manifested in Erik's astral self.

Maybe he'd have been worried, too, if Erik had looked young enough to be his student, despite that he was and occasionally did in reality. _/But I promise you that it will be very nice./_ And that he'd take the lead, because he was the one who knew where he was and how to bend this kind of world around him. A flash of thought had them back in their bedroom again, except both standing there, real and not real simultaneously.

Erik flexed his fingers, smirking as he tested the firmness of it, and then moved in on Charles, sliding a hand down his side. _/I think if I could do this, I might never leave the place./_ It was a perfect world, of his own crafting, and Erik's hand on his side, moving past his hip, leaving the sensation of fingertips on spots he hadn't felt in years, he could understand the temptation.

 _/There are certain things I would find irreplaceable if I did that. For example, you./_ With that, Charles leaned in and caught Erik's mouth, stealing the first of what he hoped would be many kisses.

Many, many kisses, that felt as real as they did in reality, only he was standing on level with Erik and that had never happened before. Erik sighed, pulled back the fraction he needed to suck on Charles's bottom lip, eyes closed even on the Astral plane. _/I could stay here with you. We'd need to stop and handle the corporeal aspects occasionally.../_

Charles laughed and pulled him in closer. _/A very good thought, but we have other responsibilities. That doesn't mean we can't come here often and enjoy ourselves./_ As often as he liked, truthfully, and he caressed down Erik's sides, careful to do so both in reality and in their current plane of existence. _/Let's lie down../_

It was motionless, but it happened, Erik on his side with him, openly reveling in the feel of Charles's leg sliding over his. _/I want you to fuck me./_ And wordlessly beneath it, a sense that he didn't care what plane of existence he ended up deflowered in, as long as it was Charles.

There was no way to resist him here, all tangled emotions and broad-shouldered vulnerability that he'd never show anyone else, and there was no sense in trying when Charles wanted him just as badly. He shifted, moved, and they were kissing, slick and soft for a moment and then harder, hungrier. God, he wanted it, couldn't wait until Erik had the chance to grow into the man he already fit inside of in his head. It had been a good Choice, the best Choice, and he would never be able to regret it.

Erik was perfect for him, the perfect foil, and that was what he needed. The fact that he groaned against Charles's mouth and his fingers kneaded at Charles's shoulders was a bonus he hadn't been specifically seeking. The drifting half thought of, _/Mine,/_ slid through Erik's mind, and then he rolled on top of Charles, halfway pinning him down.

 _/Oh, that is.../_ Yes. Yes, perfect, and he laid one hand on the back of Erik's neck and planted both feet firmly on the mattress beneath them before pushing up to him. It was strangely different, and yet also strangely the same. He had always heard the saying that sex was ninety percent mental. It was inspiring to be shown that it was true, this way.

Erik grunted, almost startled by the push back, and then he was kissing Charles hard again, pushing back, grinding down against him. There were no clothes between them, but Erik still took a moment to shift his hips right, to line his cock up alongside Charles's and thrust in the way that felt so very good. It was funny to think of Erik as inexperienced, except he was. Inexperienced and young, and for a moment, he faltered. Just a moment, and then desire welled up and that thought went away beneath the onslaught of emotion and want.

 _/Think we could do this forever?/_ Erik gave another thrust, sliding his hands down beneath Charles, tracing places low on his back that Charles hadn't felt in ages, like scratching an itch he hadn't known was even itching.

Charles couldn't help laughing, pushing against Erik in return, his palm pressed against his Companion's lower back. _/We'd have to leave eventually to eat, but it's.. oh, that's... that's a very good idea./_ And a truly excellent feeling, because they were hard together and it was something he hadn't felt and had a connection to in a very long time.

It would've been so simple years ago, so interesting but not quite worth reveling in. Now, he was as excited by it as Eric was, and he could feel the groans, the tension in Erik's body while he dipped and slid his hips against Charles's. He'd ignored his physical side too long.

 _/Erik. Oh, Erik..../_ There was a perfection to it that he had never thought about, never considered as possible. The surge of feeling, of emotion, of their bodies, it was all quite nearly too much far too soon.

And it fed back. They weren't going to get half as far as Erik wanted to go, but Charles couldn't quite get a handle on the feedback loop between them, feeling what he was feeling and what Erik was feeling echoing between them until Erik groaned and ducked his head, coming. It hit him in a wash that rippled and ebbed and set him shuddering, only seconds behind.

The nice thing, Charles thought, about the lack of physicality was the lack of cleanup. They'd probably need it in reality, but for the moment, it was okay to lie together blissfully unaware of that future need.

Particularly when Erik stretched out, loose as a pool of water, and just exhaled. _/Clearly that's going to take some working up to./_ They'd need to build astral stamina together, and then worry about the physical stamina. Erik's idle, drifting fingers felt just as real and firm as his actual fingers did.

 _/Clearly./_ He couldn't imagine how enjoyable that would be, and he began to rub at the back of Erik's neck. _/But it's going to be extremely enjoyable./_

Erik stretched his shoulders, working a kink out of his neck. _/Oh yes. Yes, I think I'm all right with this./_ Because Charles could be everything he wanted to be, and that was Erik's job, to make Charles happy. It would've bothered Charles more if it didn't clearly also make Erik happy to see to that task.

It wasn't love, exactly, except that it was. It was duty and it was pleasure and it was a relationship that was, if the propaganda was to be believed, steeped in tradition and obligation and a variety of other words that mostly made it sound boring and staid on both sides.

Charles liked to think that love was something that developed less through crayon-printed letters and more through knowing and forging paths together, and they would have a great many things to do and places to go. They'd become something more than the sum of their parts, and hopefully something more than all of those ridiculous old truisms about Benefactors and Companions. He thought they were well on their way.

* * *

  
He had coffee, and sunshine, a book in his hand and a dog in his lap. He still hadn't worked out how the mansion still had so many stairs on the grounds, and he was tempted to do something drastic about it. The peace of the summer was going to shatter soon enough -- with the other kids who couldn't go home for the summer coming back, with the school year starting not long after that and the rest of them coming back as well. And classes starting at the university.

Basically, everything he could ask for and then some.

Charles had kissed him and laughed, sending him out into the sun with promises of more interesting things in the evening. He was pretty sure Headmaster Richard would be coming for dinner, just from the hushed telephone call he'd caught part of earlier. He'd wandered off before he'd heard too much, but they'd be talking about classes and engineering along with who knew what else.

Rodney gave an immense yawn, and put his head on Erik's knee, while Erik flipped a page. Yes, there was less fighting and a lot of running in circles around the grounds, but there was also sex, interesting, intricate mental sex to have, which kept down some of his restless urges, gave room for his book reading urges.

It was all the things he had hoped it would be.

Sometimes he wondered and worried, mostly about Will. John would probably come out on top no matter what, and Dean was a pretty tough nut to crack. They still wrote back and forth, but nobody had heard from Will at all, and Erik wondered if some of the more disturbing things they'd heard had been true.

He hoped he was wrong and worried that he wasn't. He'd liked Will a lot, and there was no school, no place that was a safe haven for him. And whatever his Benefactor did, it didn't matter. He might really really be Kermit the Will.

In a completely not funny way.

"So." That voice was familiar, and Erik turned his head. Richard was smiling down at him, and there was something so good and safe about that. "Rumor has it you're interested in coming back to school. I've already had to call Lady Heather to look for proper educators for you. I should likely thank you for the opportunity to start building some kind of proper higher education for the Renssel."

"Think of the business development," Erik drawled, leaning back a little and waving Richard to sit down on the stairs he was currently occupying. "Glad to see you." The last time he'd seen Richard, he hadn't been talking, and it had felt like ages and ages ago. But Richard hadn't really changed. His face was still clearly the same.

"And it's good to see you, too. Especially looking as well as you do. Honestly? I liked Charles the moment I saw him with you. Well," Richard prevaricated, "once it was clear that he wasn't trying to lure you away with promises of candy, in any case."

Always protective, worried about the things that could go wrong. Erik was a fine example of the things that could go wrong, though the scars were faded. "Charles is a very, _very_ good Benefactor to me. Are you staying for dinner, then?"

That was quite a nice laugh. "Well, of course! What else would I do, having come all this way. So! Show me your dog, show me this... truly insane place, how could only one family have lived here? I swear, it's bigger than the Renssel. Honestly, I dread the thought of dusting the place alone."

"Rodney here," Erik started, "was a punishment present to keep me from getting into fights and having my sternum come apart. Again. I had too much unstructured free time for a while. I think it's good that Charles is using this place as a school. It's too big to not be useful."

And it was neat, watching people come in and out, all bright and curious, some of them with the most interesting talents. It wouldn't take long for Richard to figure out that nobody there was normal, but he was pretty good with that kind of thing. He wouldn't do anything that would endanger any of the students. He'd probably like nothing better than to delve into every crevice and learn all sorts of new things.

There was a reason that Charles trusted him enough to let him go to school with him.

"Sounds like a great sort of punishment present to me. Especially if it kept you from doing something fantastically stupid."

"Kept me from doing something stupid a second time." Erik closed his book after lightly dog earring the page, and stood up since Richard wasn't sitting down. Rodney wuffled, and started to sniff at Richard's pant legs. "I think we can start with the back yard, and the pool, and work inside from there."

That smile made him feel comfortable, made him feel... well, as if Richard liked him just as he was. Lady Heather liked all of them and she was very nice, but this was different.

This was being home, and it felt good.

"Right! And you can tell me all about the school, too, because this is just fascinating. It would be nice if the Renssel could be somewhere with all of this fresh air, but it would probably kill all of us after spending years in New York."

Quite possibly, so Erik smiled and they moved on, talking about all sorts of things. Darius was all right, although his Benefactor was a pissy, cranky bastard. Cameron was due to go home during the next Presentation, although Richard was already having interviews with his Benefactor. That was nice to know; even Lady Heather didn't do in-depth interviews with the Benefactors much before the Presentation, and it seemed like Richard was adamant about it.

Somebody needed to look out for Companions.

Erik moved to take the lead a little. Not that Richard could stop anything with the interviews, but it at least assured him of how things were going to go, allowed him to keep an eye on it. "I have a friend from out in California who's just dropped off the face of the earth."

He didn't look at Richard, and Richard didn't look at him, but he was sure that they were both thinking the same thing. They kept walking, until finally he spoke. "Think of it like this, Erik. Maybe he's traveling, seeing the world. No matter what's really going, sometimes it's better to be an optimist about things."

"I've never been good at optimism. His benefactor was very... Graphic." He patted his hip lightly, kept Rodney from drinking out of a puddle while they got closer to the pool. It was warm, nicely so, and Hank was swimming.

Richard didn't even flinch at the sight. "My god, this place is completely fascinating! Really, I should have expected it, given your own situation but..." Erik could tell something was bothering him.

The thing about living with a telepath was that he'd become accustomed to certain things that seemed to trigger a response in his brain. It wasn't a talent or anything; just being a Companion, and maybe specifically being Charles's Companion. "You're wondering how he protects all of his students."

That little twitch verified the thought. "It's hard enough when your kids aren't... what's the right word? Gifted? I mean, Companions are set apart from birth, pretty much, but... this."

"I wonder that, too. Maybe we'll have to protect ourselves at some point." Erik shrugged his shoulders, because he certainly wasn't going to out Charles for what he was. "There are other teachers here who help. Mrs. Frost, Mr. Cassidy. I think as long as the world wants to take people like me apart, even as risky as this is, it's still better."

The memory clearly wasn't unpleasant only for him. Richard nodded slowly, and then seemed to shake himself free of it, looking around. "So! Why don't we head someplace we can talk about your future education?"

Education. Education and time with Charles and kids to help mentor when he was home, and maybe everything was going to be all right. Sometimes, Erik wasn't sure. He was still waiting for that other shoe to drop, for things to stop being so easy and so good, but.

But.

There was so much to look forwards to, things he'd learn, things they'd do together. Things that would make the world a safer place, maybe, or maybe they'd just learn to be more dangerous to counteract it. Either way was all right with Erik, and he looked up at the mansion. Charles was sitting there, teacup in hand, waiting.

He lifted a hand in half a wave, and felt something warm in acknowledgement before he went to lead Richard to the study to discuss curriculum.

If nothing else, he was going to have an interesting life.


End file.
